Until Death Do Us Part
by schrodingers cat 13
Summary: There is a bet and we all know how eager House can be when it comes to proving that he's right. What if for once he gets in over his head? A longish House/Cameron story with happy tendencies.
1. The Proposition

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_Hey there! Missed me much? School has been killing me lately and it will only get worse, but I said I'd publish a new fic by the end of the year, so here we are. This one will be rather light-hearted with lots of House/Cameron interaction, fluff and humour included, although still striving to be at least somewhat realistic, because that's just how I am. The first chapter takes place in season 2 episode 15 (Clueless)._

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_**Chapter 1 - The Proposition**

Cameron walked into House's office to find him sitting on his recliner staring at the whiteboard, apparently deeply in thought.

"We started chelation therapy with dimercaprol," she informed him.

"Thrilled to hear it," he responded while glancing back at her.

"His kidney function hasn't improved," she continued, still standing in the doorway with her arms crossed

"It will," he answered with certainty.

"He's gonna need a lung transplant," said Cameron with a sigh.

House smirked, "He's becoming more attractive by the minute, isn't he?"

Cameron gave him a forlorn smile and answered, "You're pleased. You think you've proved every marriage is a mistake."

House glanced down before asking "Do I look pleased?"

She slowly walked towards him and moved her shirt slightly to reveal a stack of $20 bills stuck behind her waistband. She pulled them out and offered them to House. Looking her directly in the eyes he took a hold of them, the tips of his fingers lightly touching hers in the process.

"What do you say we up the stakes?" The words fell of her tongue before she could do anything to stop them. Her heart started beating faster.

House let go of the notes, his interest piqued now.

Her arm fell limply by her side.

"You believe there is no such thing as a happy marriage, right? You can't prove that theory with just one couple. That's not very scientific, is it?"

"It is based on a lifetime of experience, but go on. You obviously still haven't let go of your childish ideology."

_What was she doing?!_ Instead of getting herself out of the mess her stupid mouth got her in, she was only digging a deeper hole.

"Marry me," the words rushed out of her mouth without her volition. She quickly added, "There is nothing like first hand experience," to make herself look as if she knew what she was doing.

House raised his eyebrows, "Did you just oh so subtly propose to me?"

_Oh god, what am I doing?_ Embarrassment stained her cheeks a light pink.

"You're positive you're right, plus I'll do all your clinic hours for a…for 3 months if I lose."

House gave her a condescending look, "You're serious."

Cameron gulped, fidgeting slightly. _There goes my career down the drain._

"Unless you're afraid…" she challenged him. She might as well go all the way since she already made a complete fool of herself.

That got his attention, "What are the conditions?"

Cameron was stumped, she hadn't thought about that part at all. Of course she didn't, it wasn't like she came into his office with the purpose of asking him to marry her…

"Uh… Well, we get married and… practically we act as a normal married couple would." Her eyes were anywhere but on him.

"Legally married?"

"Yes… we can easily get a divorce afterwards."

House scratched his head, "I never thought marriage vows would mean so little to you… but then again… For how long?"

She thought about it briefly before looking at him and answering, "6 months."

"That's a bit long, don't you think?" he commented, measuring her with his eyes.

"It takes time to get settled in and to gather enough information."

He smirked, "If I remember correctly, that's also the exact amount of time you were married to your previous hubby before he went into the fertilizer business."

A mixture of anger and grief squeezed her heart and she was just about to tell him to forget it when he spoke, "7 months."

She answered, "Fine," more out of defiance that anything else.

"So..." drew out House, contemplating the proposition, "7 months of connubial bliss and then we divorce. What exactly does that entail?"

"We move in together and then… live together… like a regular marriage."

House simply answered, "Ok."

Cameron looked at him in shock, her eyes wide.

"Changed your mind already?" he asked her with a challenging glint in his eyes.

"No," Cameron barely managed to utter.

"By the way, how will we determine who wins?"

"Well… if at the end you feel like you were unhappy in the marriage then you win, otherwise I do."

"You do realise that there is no chance of that ever happening?"

Cameron shrugged and said, "You don't know until you try."

She stood there rather awkwardly for a couple of moments before saying, "We can discuss the details tomorrow… and you can still change your mind if you want to."

"You're not getting out of this so easily. You reap what you sow," he answered, by the looks of it quite amused by the current situation.

Cameron only managed an "Ok then… tomorrow," before she exited the office with his eyes trailing her every move till the moment she was out of his sight.

* * *

**A/N: **_Like I said, I'm snowed under with schoolwork, but I will try to update as fast as possible. I also have a favour to ask. If anyone has any idea how marrying at the registrar (is it?) thing works, please PM me. You'd save me a lot of trouble. *puppy dog eyes* Oh, and I think I'm supposed to wish you a happy New Year and all that._


	2. In Anticipation of

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_First of all, thanks for the help guys, although I suspect you weren't so eager out of purely altruistic reasons. _:)_ Secondly, this plot is very dear to me, that is House and Cameron unintentionally getting married or pretending that they are together for whatever reason. Unfortunately, the best stories with that plot tend to end up unfinished, that is why I decided to write one of my own. I also think that in light of recent developments you'd prefer something lighter. _

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_**Chapter 2 – In anticipation of banging her head against a wall **

It was just a normal day at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and the hospital's Diagnostics Department. After successfully wrapping up the case the previous day, doctors of the said department found themselves with nothing to do. Allison Cameron eagerly took that opportunity to do some clinic hours. After a rather long and sleepless night, she figured there was the least possibility to do any harm. After all, as House often said, even a drunk Chimpanzee could do that job.

As to what kept the young duckling awake most of the night, well it is not every day that one proposes to their own boss without having any kind of an established romantic relationship. In other words, she was beating herself up for her insane behaviour the previous day. Only after arriving at her apartment did she fully comprehend the ramifications of her request. She'll become Mrs. House! And he'll make her life a living hell for sure. The idea to call this thing off crossed her mind often enough, however, that would only make her appear weak in his eyes. That, and she was kind of curious what it would be like to…

"Ouch!"

"Sorry," she apologised to the young boy that was squirming on the examination table.

She looked at the worried mother, who was trying to hold the boy still, and told her, "He doesn't need any stitches and he's not exhibiting any symptoms of a concussion. I'll order an MRI scan just to be sure everything is OK, but you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said the mother, "he's been repeatedly banging his head against walls, tables…. any solid object he could find."

She ran her hand through the boy's short hair with a concerned expression on her face.

Cameron bent down, so that she was on an eye level with the boy, and asked him, "Why is that, Jack? Doesn't it hurt to do that?"

The boy ardently shook his head and then winced a little at the pain. However, that didn't erase the determined look in his eyes.

"It will make my head super strong so no one could hurt me."

"Where did you hear that?" asked Cameron with a gentle smile.

"He watched this show the other day. I think it was about those monks practicing Kung Fu and he's been at it ever since," explained the mother.

Cameron turned her head back at the boy, "Is that where you learned that? You want to be as powerful as those monks?"

The boy nodded enthusiastically, once again forgetting about the pain, of which he was soon enough sourly reminded.

The mother rested her hand on her son's shoulder and looked at Cameron pleadingly, "Could you please explain to him that he should stop doing this. I tried, but he wouldn't listen."

Cameron sighed, "Look, Jack… Those monks were all big and powerful, right?"

"Yes," the boy agreed.

She continued with her persuasion, "See, you're too little for that. It would only harm you now. And it doesn't feel good, does it?"

Jack reluctantly shook his head.

"You have to wait until you're as big as those monks that you saw on TV, then it will hurt a lot less."

The boy's eyes lit up and he looked at his mum hopefully, "You'll let me do that when I'm all big?"

The mother glanced at Cameron who nodded her encouragingly.

"Sure, sweetie. When you're older."

The boy smiled happily at that.

As they were about to leave the room, the mother turned back and said, "Thank you."

Cameron smiled and answered, "No problem. Take care."

Talking about banging one's head against the wall… she had a feeling she will be doing a lot of that in the near future.

* * *

**A/N: **_This is just a little something. Seeing how excited you guys are, it makes me feel really bad to let you wait for too long. *sigh* What the kid had in mind were Shaolin monks who do that to thicken their skull, so they won't get so easily injured if someone hits them on the head. In a documentary I once saw, they lifted the guy and held him like a ram (that wooden log used to break doors) and banged his head against a log that was hanging down from somewhere. _


	3. The Details

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Hmm, not much happens in this chapter either, but it will get more fun eventually._

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_**Chapter 3 - The Details  
**

"Oh, here you are," exclaimed House as Cameron entered his office later that day, "I thought you chickened out."

"You thought wrong," she answered with more confidence than she felt and strode purposefully towards his desk.

He raised an eyebrow before putting on a pensive face. "I was wondering… You said that this will be an all inclusive marriage, does that mean I can call off my hooker?"

"Yes," she answered with an unfaltering gaze, "but let me just get one thing straight. You're not allowed to intentionally sabotage the marriage in any way."

"That might pose a problem."

As she kept staring him down, he continued, "You must have noticed by now that I'm incapable of **not** sabotaging a relationship."

She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest, "You'll just have to try harder otherwise the win is mine."

He tapped his fingers on the desk, "Fine."

"I'll take care of all the formalities, so you don't have to worry about that," she told him.

"So, what do we tell people?" he asked nonchalantly while leaning back in the chair.

She paused for a moment before answering, "They don't have to know anything. We'll just tell them we got married and that's it."

He raised his eyebrows, "And you think they'll just go along with that without asking any questions?"

She turned around, glancing through the glass office doors briefly, before settling her eyes back on him. "We can say that we fell in love and we didn't want to waste any more time, so we decided to marry."

He smirked at the look of embarrassment on her face.

"I still don't think that will fool them… but it's your call."

"You can tell Wilson if you want, I don't mind."

"And have to listen to his lectures?" he asked appalled, "On second though, I'll have to listen to his lectures either way… Oh, this will be just great."

He looked back at her, "I want you to do 7 months of clinic duty as my reward."

"What?" she asked momentarily confused.

"7 months of clinic duty," he repeated slowly as if talking to a child, "one for each month of this torture I'll have to endure."

"Fine."

"Just like that?"

"It doesn't make much of a difference."

He frowned then. "Explain to me again, how exactly will this work? I'll have to pretend that I'm madly in love with you and cater to your every need?"

She smiled at him, "And vice versa. You can ask Wilson for advice, I'm sure he would gladly help you."

"Yeah," House grumbled, "but you said I'm not allowed to sabotage the thing and his track record is just as bad as mine. The only difference is that he marries every woman he meets and then ends up paying alimony. Actually, I could probably teach him a thing or two."

She couldn't help but smile.

"By the way," he started, "this is not just some elaborate scheme to get me to fall for you?"

"You think I'm that pathetic?"

He looked at her sceptically, "I honestly don't know."

"It's not," she answered, mildly offended.

"You see, what I don't get," he said while interlacing his fingers and placing his hands on the desk, "is how you're supposed to have even the slightest chance to win. I mean, if this really isn't some sort of a ploy, because it won't work, then there is no chance for you to win."

"Of course there is."

"Oh? I was under the impression that love is the key ingredient of a happy marriage. I guess I was wrong then."

"There are many kinds of love," she said and paused.

He was about to say something when she continued, "Not all marriages are based on love, some have been arranged. And you can't say that all of those are unhappy. Sometimes it can be enough to respect someone and care for them…"

House shook his head. "This whole thing doesn't make any sense."

"Look," said Cameron determinately, "if when the 7 months are up you'll want nothing but to get rid of me as fast as possible then the win will be yours."

House ran his hand over his face and sighed, "Fine… whatever."

He was getting tired of this conversation.

"Anything else you want to know?" she asked tentatively, sensing his irritation.

"Don't think so," he answered without looking at her.

"Ok, I'll let you know when everything is ready for the… Night," and with that she walked out of the office.

* * *

**A/N: **_Uhm, about the next update… I have a test and a presentation next week, so don't get too hopeful. On the bright side, I'll have one month of holidays afterwards, which will be spent writing all those seminar papers and doing other useless school stuff, but at least I won't have any lectures, right? You can expect my updates to be faster then. At the moment you can only hope that I'll survive this in a roughly the same condition. T.T _


	4. Royal Flush

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I'm still alive and kicking. Well, not so much kicking and barely alive, but it's a start. I know it's a short chapter, but I'm still trying to get over the severe lack of sleep I've accumulated over the past few weeks, so give the poor kitty a break. _

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_**Chapter 4 – Royal Flush**

"So you're finally getting tied down, eh?"

"It's only temporary. You should know that, being omniscient and all that."

"Oh, we'll see about that."

"Talk less, play more," complained House as he flipped his cards.

A smirk found its way to his lips as he proudly announced, "Straight flush. Beat that if you can."

His companion revealed his cards and House groaned. Royal flush. For the 10th time in the row. Playing poker with God did have its drawbacks.

Suddenly there was a sound of a phone ringing. House looked around to locate the sound, when all of a sudden a telephone materialised in the middle of the poker table. One of those ancient black ones with a dial. God picked up the receiver and said, "Seventh heaven."

He started nodding, obviously in agreement with what the caller was saying. Finally, he looked at House and said, "It's for you."

House raised his eyebrows. When he started to reach for the phone receiver everything began getting blurry and he got a feeling he was being pulled backwards with a lightning speed.

He woke up suddenly, completely disoriented. Looking around the room, he tried to locate the annoying sound. It was his cell phone. He groaned and reached over to the nightstand.

Flipping the phone open he growled, "What?" without even looking at the caller ID.

"I hope you're free this Friday."

He ran his hand over his face and then glanced at the clock.

"It's 10 am," he grunted, "on a Saturday."

"I am aware of that. Do you have time this Friday or not?" replayed Cameron.

"Why?" he asked, dragging himself into a sitting position.

"For the ceremony."

"What ceremony?" he asked, still a bit dazed from sleep.

"The wedding ceremony, of course."

"I thought we're just signing the papers, where's the ceremony in that?" he questioned.

"Well…" he heard her hesitate, "we won't be just signing the papers."

"But, it will be just a small thing, nothing major", she added quickly.

Silence stretched between them.

He was pulled out of his musings when she called his name tentatively, "House?"

"Fine," he murmured, "What time?"

"8 pm and we'll probably be through with it in an hour at most. And one more thing…"

"What?"

"I'll move in with you that weekend."

"What?!" he asked, in complete shock.

"It was part of the deal and you agreed to it," she reminded him.

House turned his head at the sound of the front door opening. Wilson seemed to be back from his regular trip to the grocery store.

_Oh, no, Wilson…_He'll have to get rid of him before she moves in…

"Yeah, sure. Anything else?"

"Don't forget to bring your social security card with you and your birth certificate. We'll also need a witness, I thought Wilson could…."

House could hear Wilson rummaging around the kitchen, opening and closing the cabinets.

"You're not serious."

"He'll find out anyway, so you might as well let him participate. Besides, he's been your friend for years and I get along with him well enough, so it's reasonable to allow him this honour."

"Honour," repeated House mockingly.

"It's not like he'll get another chance of experiencing this with you," she added acerbically.

"Ouch. I'd prefer you saved the claws for when we're in bed together."

Uncomfortable silence stretched over the line until she broke it with, "Anyway, let me know how you decide. And find something appropriate to wear. Bye House."

She hung up before he got a chance to say anything else.

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**A/N: **_Soo, holidays, woohoo! From now on you shall receive two updates a week and you are allowed to complain if I don't fulfil that condition at any time. _


	5. Croissants

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_I haven't told you yet how I chose the title for this story. I know that it is quite obvious to what it alludes, but I got inspired by a manga with the same title, which has nothing in common with the show except for this cool male protagonist with a handicap, exceptional skills and an attitude problem. Oh and this very young and very nice female protagonist who believes that she'll get married to the before mentioned guy (in her defense, she is psychic). Hmm, perhaps they are more similar than I thought… _

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_**Chapter 5 - Croissants**

_***5 min later***_

House padded into the kitchen to find Wilson opening the oven door and showing something inside.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Wilson turned around and answered sarcastically, "And a good morning to you too."

House glanced at the oven and then back at Wilson.

"You're baking," he said with disdain.

"I'm making French croissants," Wilson informed him rather pompously.

Noticing the grimace on House's face he added, "Don't even try to act all high and mighty, because we both know you're gonna gobble them down as soon as they're done."

House glared at Wilson who simply ignored him and continued making another batch of croissants.

Sensing House's eyes boring through his back- or so it felt to him- Wilson tried everything in his power to keep his calm. Finally he couldn't take it anymore and he turned around, asking his friend exasperatedly, "Is there anything you want?"

House pretended to think for a few seconds before he answered, "Nope," and limped back to his bedroom.

_***1 hour later***_

House and Wilson were sprawled on the couch, eating croissants, drinking beer and watching _The Simpsons_ re-runs. Well, Wilson was watching the show while House kept glancing back and forth between TV and Wilson. Eventually Wilson turned towards House and asked him, "Something on your mind?"

House made an innocent face and replied, "No. Why?"

Wilson looked at him suspiciously, but then decided it wasn't worth it and continued watching TV.

_***2 hours later***_

"Ok, that's it!" said Wilson, grabbed the remote, turned off the TV and faced House.

"Either tell me what's going on or stop fidgeting because it's driving me crazy!"

"You're being paranoid…" started House but then stopped, noticing Wilson's unrelenting stare.

This felt like standing in front of a firing squad. Without a blindfold. Or a cigar.

"What are you doing Friday night?" asked House pretending to be nonchalant.

Wilson contemplated the question and then answered slowly, "I don't have any plans yet. Why?"

"You do now," said House and reached for the remote, hoping that Wilson will let it slide this time, yet at the same time knowing that he won't.

Indeed, Wilson moved the remote out of House's reach and asked him seriously, "What's going on House?"

House took a deep breath and tapped his fingers on his left thigh. Reaching a decision, he looked at Wilson and said with a completely straight face, "I'm getting married. To Cameron."

Wilson kept staring at House for a few moments until he burst out laughing, nearly spilling his beer in the process.

"That's a good one. I really needed that," he managed to choke out while holding his stomach and trying to safely set the beer bottle on the coffee table.

House observed him for a while before he commented, "I'm not joking."

Obviously that didn't convince Wilson, as he only laughed harder. But then he noticed the expression on House's face and his laughter gradually died out.

"I had a great laugh, but no need to overdo it."

House didn't say anything and Wilson frowned.

"You're not joking…" he stated slowly while examining House's reaction.

"Come on, you're not seriously expecting me to believe that," he said patronizingly, smiling slightly.

"Whether you believe it or not, it's going to happen."

The amused expression on Wilson's face got substituted by a dumbfounded one.

"No…"

"Yes…" House mocked him.

"When? How?"

House would usually mock Wilson's stuttering, but this time he just wanted to get the conversation over with.

"We talked the other day…decided that we… love… each other... and that we wasted enough time already…so… we're getting married as soon as possible… which is this Friday."

He cringed inwardly when he said that. Luckily he managed to conceal just how uncomfortable he was from Wilson.

Wilson was speechless. He tried to make sense of all of it by replaying the conversations he had with House about Cameron, when House's voice brought him back to reality.

"So, you wanna be our witness or not?"

"Um, sure," Wilson barely managed to utter.

As soon as he got his answer, House shot up from the couch and speed-limped into his bedroom.

_***2.5 hours later***_

Wilson knocked on House's bedroom door.

He heard a muffled, "Go away," but that didn't stop him from entering the room.

He found House lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"I know you didn't tell me the whole story," stated Wilson.

House looked at him. "That's what you've been doing the last half an hour? You should have started making lunch, it's almost noon."

"House," Wilson warned him, "Are you or are you not marrying Cameron this Friday?"

House sighed exasperatedly, "I already told you that I am."

"Because you love her?"

"…Let's say that I do." This time House couldn't conceal the grimace that appeared on his face fast enough and Wilson noticed it.

Seeing Wilson's sceptical look he added grumpily, "What does it matter to you?"

"I don't want either of you doing something you'll regret later."

House sat up and slid his legs off the bed. "Tell you what… I'll explain this whole thing to you on Friday after the ceremony. OK?"

He stood up and went towards the door, only to be interrupted by Wilson's objection, "But I won't be able to reason you out of this if I don't know what 'this' is."

House stopped before Wilson and smirked. "Exactly. And you're not allowed to talk to Cameron either. Now, get started on lunch already. I'm starving."

Wilson could only watch him helplessly as House walked towards the couch, flopped himself on it and turned on the TV.

* * *

**A/N: **_So, this was the eagerly awaited House/Wilson interaction, hope it fulfilled your expectations. The next chapter should by up by the end of the week, but don't get too spoiled by the fast updates. They'll be a bit slower as soon as I delve into the massive amounts of school work. Or perhaps not, we'll see. _


	6. You're killing me

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_I seriously underestimated the amount of time needed for research for this chapter, otherwise it would have been up sooner. My bad._

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_**Chapter 6 – You're killing me **

So far, Monday has been a rather dull day. No patients. No nothing. House and Cameron have managed to tiptoe around their deal until noon, when Cameron entered House's office with a stack of papers in her hands, interrupting House's game of Minesweeper- expert level. He looked up at her just when he pressed the mouse button, effectively killing himself in the process.

"Look what you did now. You killed me," he whined.

Cameron simply smiled and threw the papers on his desk.

House glanced at them with contempt and remarked, "What's this? Paperwork? Killing me once isn't good enough for you?"

"It's the application for the marriage license. If you fill it out now, the ceremony will go much faster."

He sighed and started rummaging around his desk for a pen. The mess didn't help, but eventually he managed to find one.

He started filling out his part, pausing every now and then to remember things like his date of birth or his parents' middle names. Cameron waited patiently, fiddling with the red-grey tennis ball.

Upon completion, House lifted the piece of paper, examining his answers. Cameron stretched out her hand to take the paper back, but he moved it out of her reach and said, "Nu huh."

Since Cameron had already completed her half of the page, House couldn't pass the opportunity to learn some embarrassing personal information, such as her middle name.

"Joanna?" he asked her, clearly amused by his discovery.

"Give that back," she commanded, trying to reach for the incriminating piece of paper once again with no more success than the previous time.

"Hey, a husband should know his wife's middle name, don't you agree _Joanna_?" said House with a smirk.

Cameron sighed and dropped her hand. "My dad is a history professor, so he named me after Joan of Arc."

"What? Joan wasn't hillbilly enough?"

He smiled at her agitated expression and continued reading, stopping at her ex-husband's name: Mathew Shane Seawright. He stored that particular piece of information for future reference as well as the names of her parents: George Edgar Cameron and Joy Suzan Godfrey.

Making sure that he didn't miss anything, he offered her the papers.

She took them rather forcefully and asked him, "Happy now?"

He smiled at her and said, "Ecstatic."

Cameron took a few moments to compose herself. Slightly calmer now, she inquired, "So, how did you decide about Wilson?"

House's face straightened immediately. "I decided to give him this _honour_," he said mockingly.

"But he doesn't know about the conditions of the deal yet. You better not tell him anything," he warned her.

"Good. Be ready at 5. We're going ring shopping." She turned around, about to leave when he spoke, "Ring shopping?"

She turned to face him again and repeated sweetly, "Yes. Ring shopping."

House frowned. "I don't do jewellery."

"A wedding ring is not jewellery. It is a sign of eternal devotion," she explained with a smile.

House made a face. "I thought that was the old ball and chain."

Cameron remained unfazed.

"Backing out already?" she asked, challenging him.

"No…"

"Well then, be ready at 5," she said authoritatively.

House glared at her retreating back. They weren't even married yet and she was already making his life a living hell. He successfully managed to dodge the bullet so far, but it seemed his luck has run out now. At least it was only temporary, unlikely all those poor chaps who were screwed for life.

* * *

Cameron knocked on Wilson's door before entering. She saw Wilson writing something down in a file, however he stopped as he saw her come in.

"Hi," she greeted him and immediately took a few steps closer to his desk, "House told me you agreed to be our witness on Friday."

She deposited a piece of paper in front of him and said, "Here. You need to fill out some information."

Wilson took the paper, carefully examining it.

He sighed then and looked straight at Cameron. "Look, Alison…If you could just tell me what…"

"No," she interrupted him firmly.

"I don't think you're both aware…"

"No."

"Would you please…?"

"No."

Upon seeing the concerned expression on Wilson's face she mellowed out and tried to reassure him, "We're not some teenagers trying to elope. You don't have to babysit us."

Seeing that she didn't convince him, she continued, "You have nothing to worry about. Really."

Wilson shook his head, obviously not persuaded by her words, yet he filled out the data anyway and handed her the paper.

Cameron gave him a genuine smile and thanked him before leaving his office.

* * *

**A/N:** _I looked up the marriage application form (which can be found on the official NJ site under Vital Statistics & Public Records),__ even printed it and filled it out. I might not use all of the data I did my research for, but better safe than sorry. Also, when deciding upon names and numbers I used random name/number generators. Writers should use those more often, otherwise the same names keep coming up in fics or their own preference/experience comes through._ _Next chapter: House and Cameron shopping for the wedding rings. _


	7. Give me hope Joanna

**Disclaimer**: _Nope._

**A/N: **_Why do the chapters keep getting longer than I expected them to be? *sigh* You see, I hate those long chapters, where the whole thing looks like a brick wall of text, ergo I cut them down to not let that happen. There is a reason books have a certain format. _

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* * *

_**Chapter 7 – Give me hope Joanna**

Cameron breezed into House's office at exactly 5 pm.

"Ready?" she asked him, smiling widely. She looked way too cheerful for House's liking, especially given where they were about to go.

House grunted something unintelligible in response and grabbed his backpack.

The walk to the underground garage was quiet. Mostly because House was still brooding.

Upon entering the garage, House immediately made his way towards his parking space and since Cameron didn't want to agitate him further, she simply followed.

Once House started the car she finally spoke, "There's a nice jewellery store on Lakewood road."

House didn't give any indication that he heard her except for turning the car in the right direction.

Several minutes went by when House suddenly reached towards Cameron. She jumped instinctively, trying to move away from his hand, only to find that his goal was the gloves compartment and not any part of her body. He rummaged in the compartment for some time, while still keeping his eyes on the road. She thought better than to ask him what he was doing.

Finally he dragged out a CD case and closed the compartment. He skilfully opened the case with one hand, chucked it on the back seat, and inserted the CD into the car radio.

A lively tune started playing. Cameron glanced at House who was now smirking. She barely had time to ponder on the meaning of this when the singer started singing:

_Well Jo'anna she runs a country  
She runs in Durban and the Transvaal_

Cameron covered her face with her hands and groaned, "Oh, god."

She looked back at House who was in a noticeably better mood now than only minutes before, and asked with trepidation, "You're never going to let this go, are you?"

House grinned wider. "Nope." And then turned up the music, singing along with the chorus.

_Gimme hope, Jo'anna__  
Hope, Jo'anna  
Gimme hope, Jo'anna  
'Fore the morning come  
_

_Gimme hope, Jo'anna  
Hope, Jo'anna  
Hope before the morning come_

Cameron leaned away from him and started looking through the window hoping that they will arrive soon.

_***3 min later***_

_You left me with a problem  
Now I know what it's all about  
You took my heart and split it up  
Now you know what it's all about_

_How do you feel my love?  
Do you feel it as I walk away?  
How do you feel my love?  
Do you feel it as I walk away?_

Cameron sneaked a peek at House who was still having fun singing along and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. She wondered why on earth did he have what appeared to be an Eddy Grant CD in his car.

_***another 3 min later***_

_I don't know what to do, I don't know what to say  
I never had a love to measure up to your love  
And all the little ways that you been good to me  
I've never been afraid, oh come and give me your love_

_Till I can't take love no more, give me love  
Till I can't take no more, till I can't take love no more, till I can't_

They stopped at a red light, which gave House the chance to look at Cameron. Sensing his eyes on her, she turned her head and couldn't help but smile at his goofy imitation of Jamaican accent. She shook her head, amused by his antics, and looked back at the traffic light, which changed to green at that exact moment.

_  
And if I had to bet on all the loves I've had  
Come on, don't be sad, ten to one, it's your love  
It would run away with every single place  
Oh, sweet love is this, come on, give me more love_

_***another 2 min later***_

_With all of the guys on the corner  
Oh baby, you're the latest trick  
Oh, you seem to have their number  
Look they're dancing still  
_

Eventually, the whole reggae mood got the best of Cameron and she couldn't help but watch House's performance with a smile on her face.

_I don't wanna dance  
Dance with you baby no more  
I'll never do something to hurt you, though  
Oh but the feeling is bad  
The feeling is bad_

_I don't wanna dance  
Dance with you baby no more  
I'll never do something to hurt you, though  
Oh but the feeling is bad  
The feeling is bad_

They arrived at their destination just as the guitar solo began and House turned off the engine, killing the music.

"Why do you have an Eddy Grant CD in your car?" Cameron asked him while unbuckling.

House looked at her and quipped, "It's Foreman's. We were out partying with the _brothers_ the other day."

And with that he stepped out of the car, leaving a thoroughly amused Cameron behind.

* * *

**A/N: **_The artist featured in this chapter is Eddy Grant, one of the reggae legends from the 80's. The songs are "Gimme Hope Jo'anna", "Do You Feel My Love", "Till I Can't Take Love No More" and "I Don't Wanna Dance" respectively. You should check them out on YouTube, they're pretty good. And before anyone asks why did House take his car and not the bike to work... It was raining in the morning and he didn't want to get his cool leather jacket all wet.  
_


	8. Let love and friendship reign forever

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_First of all I've got to say that all anonymous reviews are appreciated as well as the rest and that I would respond to them personally if I could._

_Ts (if you're still present):__ A soap opera, I'm offended! But I get what you mean, it's true that generally not much happens in a single chapter. I prefer it this way because the chapters are easier to edit, they are easier to read and take less time to be written/published. Another thing, I like watching series where you have to wait some time for a new episode because in that time I can think about what happened so far, analyse the situation and think of the possible outcomes. It gets your brains working, while seeing the whole season at once may do away with the frustration etc. but you're not as involved. Therefore, the length of the chapters will stay about the same, unless I can't divide the chapter or for some other reason. Of course, you can wait for the story to be completed, but that will probably take months. The choice is yours. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 8 – Let love and friendship reign forever**

House and Cameron walked into the jewellery store, which turned out to be a smaller place with jewellery cases filling every inch. There was a young woman behind the counter, who greeted them with a warm smile.

Cameron returned the gesture and walked further into the store with House following her a bit reluctantly.

"What can I do for you?" the woman asked pleasantly.

"We're looking for wedding rings," Cameron explained her.

"Oooooh, you're getting married?" the woman gushed.

Her eyes got all shiny and her face beamed with excitement. House was somewhat entertained by the fact, that someone who had barely any connection to the wedding was more excited about it than the bride and groom combined.

Cameron smiled politely and said, "This Friday," grabbing House by the wrist and pulling him closer to her. Caught by surprise, he almost lost his balance, yet managed to stay upright. This action remained unnoticed by the saleswoman, who was all but jumping up and down with joy.

"Congratulations!" she wished them.

Cameron tightened her hold on House's wrist as she knew it was only a matter of time before he would say something inappropriate given the woman's behaviour. It seemed to do the trick as he kept his mouth shut, however Cameron knew she better hurry before his patience runs out.

"Can you show us some rings?" she asked, interrupting the saleswoman.

"Of course!" the woman exclaimed. "They're in those cases," she said, pointing towards the wall nearest to House.

She practically floated towards the cases and quickly unlocked them. Just when she was about to say something, an elderly woman entered the store.

"I'll give you some time to look at the rings," she said and went to cater to the other customer.

House looked at the daunting collection of rings of all shapes, sizes and colours. He had no idea why Cameron dragged him with her. He knew nothing about jewellery and he hadn't even been in a jewellery store since… forever.

Cameron, on the other hand, went right to work. Her eyes went straight to the section with precious stones and settled on a thin white gold band with glittering sapphires set all around it. Price? Just a meagre $2,500.

House's voice brought her back to reality, "Don't even think about it. I'm not paying for that."

She tore her eyes from the beautiful ring with difficulty, to look at House.

"You'll pay?" she asked him, genuinely surprised.

"I believe that would be one of my duties," he answered.

"Well… Do you even have any money with you?"

"I've got my credit card."

"So, do you want to pay for both rings or…"

"Sure. I'll pawn them afterwards anyway."

"Right," Cameron said and turned her head back towards the glass cases.

"But…" House stopped her, "I have one condition." He held up his left index finger to emphasise the point.

She looked at him expectantly.

"Nothing shiny, which means no diamonds or stones of any other colour and no gold, because I can't stand the colour…"

"Anything else?"

He frowned, thinking deeply. "I can't think of anything right now. Choose a ring and we'll see."

"Yes, sir," said Cameron with a smile, saluting him. She walked along the cases until she stopped in front of what appeared to be a case of simple silver rings. There was one in particular that caught her attention. She ran her fingers lightly over the intricate pattern. Two hands were clasping a heart above which resided a crown.

"Ah, that's a nice choice," commented the saleswoman who reappeared by their site.

She took the ring out of the case, holding it delicately.

"This is called a Claddagh ring, it's a part of the Celtic tradition. Heart represents love, the two hands represent friendship and the crown stands for loyalty. The symbols together convey the message: Let love and friendship reign forever, but it is much more that just a wedding ring. When worn on the right hand, the heart facing outwards, it means that you are looking for love, when it faces inwards, it means someone has already captured your heart. When worn on the left hand, the heart facing outwards it means the person is engaged, but when it points inwards it means the person is married," she explained with a dreamy expression on her face before slipping into her professional role, "This piece is made of 14 carat white gold and we have a ladies' and men's version, men's being a bit wider, if you want to have matching rings. The one for men costs $450 and the one for women $350."

She took a deep breath after her long speech and placed a smile on her face.

Cameron looked at House with what could best be described as a hopeful look.

"Oh, all right," grumbled House.

The saleswoman's smile got even bigger, if that's possible, and she exclaimed happily, "Great. I'll go get the rings."

She quickly locked the jewellery cases and then disappeared behind a curtain concealing the entrance to another room. In less than a minute, she was back with two ring boxes.

"You should try the rings on to see if they fit," she said, opening the first one.

"This one's for you," she offered the ring to Cameron.

"And this one is for your fiancé," she said, offering the ring to House.

Cameron froze momentarily. She supposed they were technically engaged, but to have someone say the word out loud felt weird. She pushed the ring on her finger all the way, not daring to look at House.

Suddenly, she was startled by a clinking sound. House set, or rather threw, his ring on the counter with the words, "It fits."

She carefully glanced at his face, noticing that he didn't look half as annoyed as she would expect him to be or perhaps he was just very good at hiding it. Looking at the ring perfectly fitting her finger for one last time she then took it off and carefully placed it on the counter.

"We'll take them," she told the saleswoman.

* * *

**A/N: **_Choosing a ring for the two proved to be quite difficult until I thought of Claddagh rings. I love the symbolism behind them and I think it fits well with House and Cameron's bet. Love, friendship and loyalty are a basis for a happy marriage. The ring they chose can be found on claddaghrings. com (wedding rings, Claddagh wedding, the first one from the top). If you also want to know what the sparkly sapphire one looks like, let me know. If you could just paste links on here, it would make things so much easier. _-.-*


	9. Dream, dream, dream

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I am mentally exhausted at the moment and when that happens I tend to get philosophical, metaphysical, postmodernistic or whatever you want to call it…__Don't you just wish sometimes that days had 48h each instead of only 24? That way you could do some work AND get enough rest. When in search for the title of this chapter, I turned to The Everly Brothers' All I have to do is dream._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 9 – Dream, dream, dream**

House barged into his apartment, startling Wilson, who was watching TV on the couch. When he sufficiently recovered from the shock, Wilson went straight to interrogating House.

"Where were you?" he asked with a frown on his face.

House limped towards him, threw the ring boxes on Wilson's lap and then went straight to the kitchen without uttering a single word.

Wilson opened one of the boxes and was still staring at the ring when House came back into the room, expertly balancing a bottle of Scotch and a glass in his left hand. He sat down next to Wilson, poured a copious amount of the amber liquid into his glass and downed it with an impressive speed. He then set the glass down next to the bottle on the coffee table and leaned back.

His eyes settled on the TV screen. CNN. A plane crashed somewhere in Africa. No survivors.

"House," Wilson tried to get his attention.

It worked, as House turned his head in the direction of his friend.

"These are wedding rings," he stated, glancing back at the two boxes in his lap.

"With that wit of yours, going through the medical school must have been a breeze," House remarked.

Wilson gave him one of his patented "I'm not impressed" looks.

"Lose them and you'll buy new ones," said House, settling the matter as far as he was concerned.

Wilson persisted, "You don't look too happy about the whole wedding thing."

House gave him an impassive stare and said, "I'm thrilled."

He could see Wilson's face transform from curious to wary to concerned.

"House, if you're having second thoughts…"

House gave an annoyed sigh. "Geez, you're like a broken record… By the way, you'll have to move out before Friday."

"You're kicking me out?" asked Wilson, shocked.

House shrugged. "I guess I am. Unless you want to join me and Cameron when we're celebrating." He smirked.

Wilson grimaced. "Fine. I'll find a place."

House nodded. "Good, because I don't think my bed is big enough for three people, unless that third person is a really skinny Russian gymnast. That might work, hmmm…"

He looked up and smiled as if he was imagining a very enjoyable scenario.

Wilson coughed and House looked back at him with an innocent expression. "What?"

Wilson simply shook his head.

* * *

Cameron was lying in her bed, the events of the day replaying in her head like a bad movie. Now that they have bought the rings, the realisation finally struck her. The realisation of what she was about to do.

It was 7 months. That was a lot, anyway you look at it. But the idea of spending time with House, the idea of living with him…It brought a smile on her face for some unfathomable reason.

It would appear that she wasn't completely over him yet.

And this thing they were about to do was a double-edged sword, it could go both ways. Actually, she was pretty sure it would end in a disaster. But as it turns out, she was a glutton for punishment. Last year she went on that date with him, foolishly believing it could work, now she knew better and still…

He agreed to it…

And she was curious, perhaps a quality (or a vice) that she acquired from him. She might never get a chance like this again. Even if the thing blows up in her face…

Besides, she can't just simply let him win.

* * *

Chase came home dead-beat after a long day of searching for gold. He collapsed on a wooden chair in the kitchen, took of his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Good afternoon, honey! How was work?" Cameron chirped in an Australian dialect.

"No luck," Chase answered and sighed.

"I'm sure tomorrow will be better," Cameron tried to reassure him, not losing her cheerfulness.

"How are children?"

"They are fine," Cameron informed him while turning off the stove.

"Here is your stew," she said as she placed the plate in front of him.

All of a sudden, there was a sound of children screaming.

A boy of around ten came through the door hopping.

"Mammy, I'm a kangaroo!" he yelled excitedly.

"That's nice, but can you keep still while we eat dinner?"

The boy stopped reluctantly and sat down behind the table. Soon 2 more boys and 2 girls ran into the room and took their seats as well.

Silence descended over the table as the family dined.

The youngest girl was stubbornly shaking off a piece of celery that kept floating on her spoon.

"Eat your celery or you will get warts, Emma," Chase warned her.

Emma pouted and turned to Cameron, "Mammy…"

"Your father is right. Eat your greens," Cameron commanded.

The girl grimaced as she put the celery in her mouth and started hesitantly chewing it, as if it had bones.

Chase stirred in bed and mumbled something unintelligible before rolling over.

* * *

**A/N: **_ I didn't have enough time to do an extensive research on Victorian culture in Australia, so the scene is probably way off. But then again, it is Chase's dream and he might not know all that much about it either. By the way, there is actually a Victorian saying that says: "Eat your greens or you will get warts." _


	10. Knock knock

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I skipped forward to the big day! See, I'm not that evil. Actually, it was more about what the story needed than succumbing to your pressure, but you still got what you wanted, right? _:)

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Knock knock**

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday went by without any major events. They had a pretty simple case that they... that House... managed to solve by the end of the shift on Friday. All that was still needed was an over-night observation of the patient that House skilfully managed to pawn off on Chase and Foreman without them suspecting anything.

Other than that, the only time they talked about their upcoming wedding was when Cameron reminded House to get himself something decent to wear, when she reminded him of what he'll have to bring with him, when she reminded him where and when will the ceremony take place and when she reminded him not to forget to pass this information on to Wilson. She would do it herself, but she really didn't want Wilson messing with her head, thought she didn't mind if he messed with House's.

Meanwhile, she spent the last three days thinking and rethinking every detail of the deal, which as a result made her extremely nervous and jumpy. The only benefit was that it seemed to keep Chase away. Several times over the past three days she got the feeling that he was on the verge of asking her something and she had a bad feeling about it. Luckily, he seemed to change his mind the last second each and every time. On the other hand, it might have been just her nerves and she imagined the whole thing.

As she suspected, neither House nor her backed off. She knew House was too stubborn and she learned her first year working for him that wearing her heart on her sleeve and letting him walk all over her didn't work. Now it was time for a new approach.

So, here she was, finishing the last touches of her make up an hour before the wedding ceremony was scheduled to take place. House should come to her place in about 15 min. At least that's what she instructed him to do, knowing House anything was possible. She took a step back from the mirror to take a better look at her general appearance.

She agonised over the choice of her dress for ages. Not that it mattered, but she was still a woman and buying dresses was serious business. She chose a light blue one made of a combination of chiffon and satin with a high low hemline. It was rather simple and that was precisely why she chose it.

Her hair style and make up were made to fit nicely with the dress. Nothing elaborate, just lose hair and gentle shades. She was ready or as ready as she will ever be.

She padded barefoot into the living room, picking up her shoes on the way there. A pair of silver strappy ones with high heels. No jewellery.

Just when she dropped the shoes on her couch, there was a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. It was 7:10 pm.

* * *

**A/N:** _A short chapter and a cliff-hanger, maybe I am that evil! The thing is that I'm in a serious time pinch over here. Technically, the idea was to have 2 more seminar papers finished and about 5 more books read by the end of the next week. That is obviously not gonna happen so I had to put plan B in motion, which might mean shorter chapters and me taking a bit more time to update until the situation clears up. _

_Cameron's dress can be found on Alfred Angelo site (bridal party, bridesmaids, dress number 6471, colour: pool). Yes, I am aware that it's a bridesmaids dress, but most wedding dresses are too elaborate. I am also aware that if I spent less time looking for a real dress and just imagined one myself I would have more time for other things. I obsess sometimes… You should see my power point making process… _^^''


	11. Tying the knot

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Don't ask… Just be happy about it. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 11 – Tying the knot**

_Just when she dropped the shoes on her couch, there was a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock. It was 7:10 pm. _

She froze. House was never early. Panic started to set in as she tried to think of all the possible reasons why someone would come to see her on a Friday evening.

Another knock sounded and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Should she open the door?

"Cameron, if you don't open the door in the next 30 seconds I'm out of here and I don't care if you're in the middle of applying skin oil or painting your…"

She quickly opened the door to shut him up. Her neighbours really didn't have to know all the details of her personal life. But before she could say anything he stopped mid-sentence.

His lips remained parted as his eyes travelled over her petite form from head to toe and back up to meet her eyes. He closed his mouth and gulped inconspicuously.

His reaction took her completely by surprise and she couldn't stop the light blush that tainted her cheeks as she felt his eyes on her.

Managing to somehow compose herself, she opened the door further to allow him in. Her movement seemed to also break the spell he was under, as he now entered her apartment with the usual collected expression on his face.

She closed the door behind him and turned to look at him.

"What's with the white?" she asked.

Indeed, House was wearing a beige jacket and pants and a white shirt, which was actually ironed, thought he didn't bother tucking it in. His attire was completed with a pair of white dress shoes and a silver cane.

"I thought you were supposed to wear white at weddings," he answered, feigning surprise.

"Only if you're the bride," she replied, smiling at his antics.

"Oops," he said innocently, "my bad."

"Don't worry," she continued to play along.

She smiled at him and told him genuinely, "You look nice. No tie, though?"

"None of them fit my colour theme," he joked and then quickly added, "We can buy one on our way there," to avoid any prospect of yelling.

"No need," she said with a smile and disappeared down the hallway.

She returned a minute later carrying a tie that just happened to match the colour of her dress perfectly.

House looked at her in horror. "Please tell me you're joking."

Cameron handed him the tie, smiling at the dismayed expression on his face. She made her way to the couch and sat down to put on her shoes.

House remained standing there for a few moments, gingerly holding the tie away from his body, as if it was a particularly repulsive specimen of some invertebrate.

Cameron was obviously ignoring him. Just as well. He gave the offending piece of fabric one last evil stare before he relented and threw it around his neck. It appeared that the tie shared his feelings as it just wouldn't do what he wanted it to.

He huffed in frustration and raised his glance. "Do you have a mirror around here?"

Cameron finished securing the second shoe and then strode across the room towards him.

"I'll do it."

He released the tie and Cameron immediately went to work. First of all she had to untie the mess he made and then she started over with the whole process. Her nimble fingers were expertly crossing-over or under the two parts and pulling them through loops. She obviously knew what she was doing.

"You're pretty good at this," commented House.

She paused for a moment and looked up at him. "My dad taught me when I was little. And whenever my brother had to attend a formal event he'd ask me to tie it for him. He said it brought him luck."

She smiled at the fond memories and continued with her task.

She expertly made a perfect knot in the first try. Then she gave the tie a tug here and there to align it properly and finally readjusted his collar.

The job completed, she patted him on the shoulders and looked up.

"All done," she informed him.

Their eyes met, her palms still resting on his shoulders. She remained glued to that spot as her mind went blank for several seconds until it struck her that they really should go, unless they will be late.

She tore her eyes from his and walked towards the coffee table where she previously discarded her purse. Glancing at the clock she saw that it was now a bit over 7:15.

She urged him, "We should go."

"Right, we still have to pick up Wilson from the hotel."

She stopped dead on her way to the door. "What? Why?"

House gave her a 'you know why' look. "He insisted on it."

She sighed. "Of course he did…Well, we should hurry then."

* * *

**A/N: **_Something I wish to share with you: I took part in a literary competition with two less than perfect original works, if I do say so myself (still hoping they get lost in mail). You guys are being way too supportive so I figured I needed someone objective to knock me of my pedestal. I'll share the results with you, because I believe that you should know whether a writer really knows what he/she is doing or they are just faking it. _:) _Next chapter: Beats me._


	12. Whipping post

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I dedicate this chapter to one of my most loyal supporters. Happy birthday again and remember, coming of age is not just about privileges but also about responsibilities. (Actually, there's more of the latter.) As for the rest of you, I sure hope I won't get a full mailbox of pm's tomorrow stating that all of you have a birthday this week. _:)

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Whipping post**

The car ride was beyond awkward. You could practically hear the deadly silence echo over the hum of the engine. House held the steering wheel like a vice, his eyes glued to the road while Cameron was clutching her purse and staring out of the side window.

It was incredible how they could go from playful and completely comfortable around each other to... this. But it was natural to be nervous before a wedding, right? Especially if you're not marrying out of love, Cameron's mind supplied.

She didn't dare to look at him. She barely dared to breathe, afraid she would attract his attention. This was crazy. What they were doing was completely insane.

House took a right turn and then gradually lowered the speed, eventually stopping the car in a crowded parking lot.

She cautiously glanced over at him to see him pull the cell phone out of his pocket and dial a number. He still stubbornly refused to meet her eyes.

"We're here. Right outside the entrance," he mumbled into the phone before flipping it closed and returning it to his pocket. His hands resumed their previous position on the steering wheel and his fingers started to tap it rhythmically.

She hoped that Wilson will come soon, so that the tension will break. But at the same time she dreaded his arrival, because she knew he didn't want to ride with them purely out of concern for the environment.

Several minutes went by until House finally spoke.

"Why is he taking so long?" grumbled House and stepped out of the car. Cameron hesitated for a moment and then followed him.

He was looking around trying to spot Wilson, who was nowhere in sight. Eventually he gave up and once again reached for his phone.

"_You're not the one getting married...this time. So, stop fixing your hair in front of the mirror and get your ass down here_."

"_Where?"_ He started looking around again.

"_There's a huge sycamore tree in the middle of the parking lot for some reason_."

He rolled his eyes. "_It figures_." And ended the call.

"Apparently this hotel has two entrances and Saint James the Great here naturally took the wrong one," he explained to Cameron.

It wasn't long before Wilson emerged from behind a corner wearing a tuxedo and his hair did indeed look very orderly.

"What's with the outfit? You out to steal my thunder?" commented House.

Wilson wasn't at all deterred by his jibe. In fact, he looked rather amused. "You two look very…in sync."

"Watch it or I'll leave you right here," House threatened him.

"You can't. You need me there," Wilson responded with a self- satisfied smirk.

"He's right," Cameron chimed in, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Fine, but if he doesn't behave we'll lock him in the trunk," House told Cameron.

"Fine with me," she agreed.

Wilson followed them into the car, still not quite sure what to think of this whole situation. Not that it stopped him from commenting on House's looks.

The second he took residence on the back seat he opened his mouth again, "You could have at least shaved for your wedding day."

House replied without missing a beat, "Chicks dig the beard. It gives the appearance of nonchalance, like I'm not trying to look hot, but I still do. Right, Cameron?"

Cameron tried to think of the least embarrassing answer as both guys turned to her expectantly.

"Uh, it doesn't bother me."

"See," House triumphantly said to Wilson who just sighed.

"By the way, you look very lovely, Allison. The dress is beautiful."

"Thank you… James," Cameron responded with a smile.

House glared at Wilson with the help of the rear-view mirror, but he didn't say anything.

Yet again, a tense quiet descended upon the passengers of the car. Of course, Wilson immediately seized the opportunity to once again try prying into the affairs of his colleagues.

"You two seem a bit… uptight. If you're having second thoughts…"

"No," House and Cameron interrupted him in unison. They glanced at each other as if sizing each other up when Wilson caught their attention again.

"Marriage is not something to be taken lightly. It is an important decision…"

"Says the guy who has been married three times and is just about to finalise his third divorce," reminded him House.

This was still a sore spot for Wilson, but he vowed not to let any of House's deflection techniques get to him that day. Today, he was a man on a mission. On a mission to prevent his friends from making one of the biggest mistakes of their lives. Well, that and he was curious. Still, his intentions were noble.

"Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had a friend to talk to," Wilson said pointedly.

"Hey I tried to stop you, it's not my fault that you didn't listen," House defended.

Wilson sighed theatrically, "Right and your advice started with: 'Do you know what hurricanes and women have in common'."

House smirked and filled Cameron in on the joke, "When they come they are wet and wild but when they go they take your house and car away."

She smiled despite herself.

"Turns out I was right."

"And you spent the entire ceremony humming _Whipping post_ by Allman brothers!" exclaimed Wilson.

"I gave it my best shot. It didn't work."

Wilson sighed. House was right after all. He always was. However, he did just give him some heavy ammunition.

"Why the sudden change of heart then? If you believe that marriage is all about pain and suffering…"

"Because…" House started but then discovered that he doesn't have a ready-made answer.

He took a few moments to think while stopping the car in front of the City Hall. He turned off the ignition and looked straight at Cameron when he said the next words, "She's all I need."

* * *

**A/N:** _As it turns out Saint James the great was one of the 12 apostles of Jesus. You should check the "Whipping post" lyrics to get the full meaning of the reference, although the title is already quite self-explanatory. Those of you who are into classical rock, I suggest you look it up on YouTube, there are some decent recordings of the song. Now, do you promise not to tie me to a whipping post if I tell you that there just might be another chapter before the ceremony? _:)


	13. Kids know it best

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Lectures start again tomorrow and since I'm not even close to finishing everything I was supposed to do it might be time for some desperate measures. So, if I happen to go MIA for a few days or weeks don't worry, I didn't die or worse, abandon the story. Things should start clearing up mid March (hopefully). _

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_**Chapter 13 – Kids know it best**

They took the elevator to the 3rd floor where the registrar's office was. Surprisingly, Wilson didn't say another word since they entered the building, which suited House and Cameron just fine as neither was in the mood to discuss the matter any further.

To any random person they would seem more like a group going to a funeral than to a wedding ceremony, as each of them kept quiet, submerged into his or her own thoughts.

They arrived in front of the office and sat down on a nearby bench. House glanced at his watch. They still had 20 minutes left.

Not even a minute went by as the sound of screams pierced the pensive mood of the three doctors.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and three small children dashed from its confines, leaving a very distressed mother behind.

"Children, wait!" she called after them, trying to sprint after them as best as she could in her high heels.

"Roger! Chris! Kimberly!"

The two boys and the girl ran towards House, Cameron and Wilson where the oldest of them, who appeared to be 9 or 10, suddenly stopped, making his siblings crash into him. They all fell down in a heap.

"Ouch!"

"Get off me!"

"You stupid… monkey!"

"Baby!"

That's when Cameron got on her feet and helped the youngest boy stand up.

"Are you ok?" she asked him worriedly.

"Fine," the little boy grumbled, sending a death glare to his older brother who already managed to get back on his feet.

The children's mother finally caught up with them and immediately began telling them off, "You shouldn't be running around here."

"That's a cool cane. Can I hold it?" the oldest kid asked House while completely ignoring his mother.

"Roger, I'm talking to you," the mother scolded him before turning to House.

"I'm really sorry. I don't know what gets into them. One minute they're good and the next…"

"They're kids," Cameron supplied with a smile.

The mother sighed, "I suppose you're right."

She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, "Could I ask you for a favour? I have something to take care of. Could you keep an eye on them for about 5 minutes, 10 at most? If it's not too much of a bother."

"Of course," Cameron replied before either of the guys could get a word in.

The woman looked immensely relived. "Thank you so much. I really appreciate it."

Cameron nodded in acknowledgment before the woman continued down the hallway.

"That's a funny dress," commented the girl while eyeing Wilson.

House smirked, but Wilson wisely chose to ignore him.

"It's for special occasions," he explained the girl.

"Oh, what's the occasion?" she interrogated him further.

"My friends are getting married," he said and nodded towards House and Cameron.

"Married?" the youngest boy, who couldn't be more than 6, asked.

"Yes. Do you know what that means?" Cameron asked him gently.

"Marriage is when you get to keep your girl and don't have to give her back to her parents," he replied.

Cameron was just about to say something when the girl, aged 7 or 8, chimed in, "When somebody's been dating for a while, the boy might propose to the girl. He says to her, 'I'll take you for a whole life, or at least until we have kids and get divorced, but you got to do one particular thing for me.' Then she says yes, but she's wondering what the thing is and whether it's naughty or not. She can't wait to find out."

Wilson was gaping at the girl, Cameron didn't quite know what to say, but trust House to always have an answer.

"Oh it_ is_ naughty."

"House, these are children!" Cameron whispered to him, appalled at his behaviour.

"Kissing is not naughty, mom kisses me all the time," the youngest protested.

"Yes, but it's different if you kiss some other boy or girl," said Kimberly.

She cringed and added, "I don't like kissing boys. They always slobber all over you...That's why I stopped doing it."

"Where did you learn how to kiss?" Wilson asked, still in shock.

"You learn it right on the spot when the gushy feelings get the best of you," Roger said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"It might help to watch soap operas all day," Kimberly added.

"I know one reason kissing was created," the youngest one interjected.

"And which one is that?" Cameron asked him kindly.

"It makes you feel warm all over, and they didn't always have electric heat or fireplaces or even stoves in their houses."

She immediately took a liking to the little boy.

The oldest boy put on a contemplative look when he elaborated further on the matter, "I look at kissing like this: Kissing is fine if you like it, but it's a free country and nobody should be forced to do it. And you should never kiss a girl unless you have enough bucks to buy her a ring and her own VCR, 'cause she'll want to have videos of the wedding."

"You don't want to marry when you're older?" Cameron asked him.

The boy simply shrugged, but his sister confidently shared her opinion, "It's better for girls to be single but not for boys. Boys need somebody to clean up after them!"

"Some of them sure do," murmured Wilson.

"You don't want to get married either?" Cameron asked Kimberly.

She thought for a few moments and then replied, "Maybe I will someday. My mother says to look for a man who is kind....That's what I'll do....I'll find somebody who's kinda tall and handsome. But most men are brainless, so I might have to try more than one to find a live one."

Cameron burst out laughing. "So true."

House coughed purposefully and the girl turned to look at him.

"Oh, I'm sure you're smart," Kimberly said condescendingly, which did nothing to subside Cameron's laughter.

"Once I'm done with kindergarten, I'm going to find me a wife," Chris suddenly said with determination.

Wilson finally came over his shock and started enjoying the conversation.

"You guys seem to know a lot about marriage, do you have any advice for our happy couple?" he asked, ignoring House's glare.

Roger immediately responded, "You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming."

"Right on," exclaimed House and held up his hand, which the boy hit, smiling proudly.

"Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck," the youngest boy shared his wisdom.

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**A/N: **_Kids' opinions are taken from a few internet sites, ergo I don't take any credit for them. And by the way I finished this chapter you might suspect what is coming next. I'm not doing this on purpose, honestly! I just go where the story takes me. Besides wouldn't you prefer a writer that has loads of ideas than one who has to chase his/her plot bunnies for weeks? By the way, you do know that if you kill me there will be no more chapters, right?_


	14. Kids still know it best

**Disclaimer:** _Nope. _

**A/N: **_This is the second part of the last chapter and yes I did already have it planned before you went all googly eyed over the children._

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_**Chapter 14 – Kids still know it best**

"_You guys seem to know a lot about marriage, do you have any advice for our happy couple?" he asked, ignoring House's glare. _

_Roger immediately responded, "You got to find somebody who likes the same stuff. Like if you like sports, she should like it that you like sports, and she should keep the chips and dip coming."_

"_Right on," exclaimed House and held up his hand, which the boy hit, smiling proudly. _

"_Tell your wife that she looks pretty even if she looks like a truck," the youngest boy shared his wisdom. _

"One of you should know how to write a check. Because, even if you have tons of love, there is still going to be a lot of bills," advised Kimberly.

"Be a good kisser. It might make your wife forget that you never take out the trash," added Roger.

"Oh goody, one less chore for me to do," House said to Cameron suggestively.

"Don't forget your wife's name...That will mess up the love," the youngest contributed.

"You should take the girl out to eat. Make sure it's something she likes to eat. French-fries usually works for me," the oldest kid suggested House conspiratorially.

Kimberly leaned in closer to Cameron and whispered, "If you want him to love you just shake your hips and hope for the best."

House leaned in closer just in time to overhear the last part. "Now that's a good advice, you should try it out some time."

Cameron was beginning to feel more than slightly embarrassed by all the attention and tried to look anywhere but at House.

"Spend most of your time loving instead of going to work," Roger whispered another advice to House, but loud enough for Cameron to hear.

House turned to her with a huge grin on his face.

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Don't. Just don't…" she murmured.

"Yell out that you love them at the top of your lungs ... and don't worry if their parents are right there," said the youngest one.

Wilson and Cameron smiled at that while House grimaced.

"You should listen to this one," said Wilson, patting Chris on the head.

"Ok then, wise guys, what advice would you give to a guy who can't seem to find the right woman?" House not so subtly nodded towards Wilson.

"If you want to be loved by somebody who isn't already in your family, it doesn't hurt to be beautiful," said the girl while looking at Wilson.

"Beauty is skin deep. But how rich you are can last a long time," disagreed Roger.

"Dating is important," said Kimberly.

"And what do people do on dates?" Cameron inquired.

"On the first date, they just tell each other lies, and that usually gets them interested enough to go for a second date," answered Roger.

"Wilson's definitely got that one covered," remarked House with a smirk while Cameron tried desperately not to smile.

"Dates are for having fun, and people should use them to get to know each other. Even boys have something to say if you listen long enough," Kimberly added.

"Wilson sure does," said House under his breath.

"And it's good if your car breaks down," started the girl.

When everyone gave her confused looks, she explained further, "That's how our parents fell in love. They were at a dance party at a friend's house. Then they went for a drive, but their car broke down...It was a good thing, because it gave them a chance to find out about their values."

Cameron quickly asked another question before House could make another inappropriate remark about before-mentioned 'values'. "What about love?"

"Love is the most important thing in the world, but baseball is pretty good too," said the youngest one.

"I'm in favour of love as long as it doesn't happen when The Simpsons is on TV", declared Kimberly.

"Love will find you, even if you are trying to hide from it. I have been trying to hide from it since I was five, but the girls keep finding me," complained Roger.

"I know what that's like," sighed House.

Cameron took a calming breath and asked Roger, "You don't like love?"

Roger frowned. "It's like an avalanche where you have to run for life."

House genuinely laughed at that and once again raised his hand. The boy high fived it as House said, "I like you, kid. You're smart."

They turned their heads at the sound of heels echoing in the hallway. The children's mother was walking back towards them.

"I'm sorry it took me so long. Hope they weren't too much of a bother," she said apologetically.

"Oh no, they were delightful," said House.

The woman frowned, obviously confused as to whether House was serious or joking.

"They're good kids," Cameron added which only served to confuse the poor woman further.

She nodded tentatively. "Well, thank you so much. You really helped me out."

"No problem," replied Cameron as she and Wilson waved goodbye to the kids.

Still caught up watching the children's retreating backs, she was startled when House leaned in and whispered, "Don't even think about it. There is no return policy on children."

"I wasn't…" she whispered back.

House rolled his eyes. "Oh please… I saw you go all googly eyed over them."

"I think they were cute, but that doesn't mean I want them running around my apartment," Cameron defended herself.

House gave her a disbelieving look, but decided to drop it. He glanced at his watch. 10 more minutes. It was pretty much the last chance to cancel the deal. His heart started beating faster and it took real effort not to succumb to any of his nervous tics. He wasn't going to let anyone in on his current state of mind, least of all Cameron and Wilson.

He glanced at Cameron who was examining her palms. It seemed that he wasn't the only one feeling the nerves.

He asked her quietly, "Can we talk?"

Before she could answer he added, "Privately," as he saw Wilson perk up his ears.

She nodded and they walked out of Wilson's earshot.

"This is it," House stated, "If you want to drop the deal, this is your last chance."

"Who says I want to drop it?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

"I'm just saying…" His eyes drifted away from her and he suddenly seemed very intrigued by the entirely empty hallway.

He only avoided eye contact when he was unsure of himself, Cameron knew that much. "Maybe you're the one who wants to drop it," she said confidently.

"And give up 7 months without clinic duty? I'm not that crazy," he said, this time meeting her eyes dead on.

Cameron shrugged. "Looks like we're doing this then."

"Looks like it."

They both turned their heads as the registrar's doors opened. A couple came out holding hands and smiling widely. Several other people followed them, chatting excitedly. One of them was holding a camera, keeping it trained on the newly weds. A few moments after the merry bunch made its way down the hallway a woman wearing a highly professional suit and holding a bunch of papers stepped out.

"8 o'clock appointment?" she asked loudly.

House and Cameron looked at each other one last time, before they made their way back.

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**A/N: **_Now, the next chapter will really be the ceremony. Even I can't stall any longer. :) Unless… there's a fire, an alien abduction, or the registrar could have a medical emergency. Nah, I'm just kidding… Or am I? Update: I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you, but you never know._


	15. I do

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_You have no idea how much time I spent sifting through the beyond sappy material to get this chapter together. Planning weddings is a horrible job and I believe I've just become perfectly qualified to do it. Hope that you will enjoy the effort and if anyone dares to complain the chapter is too short, I'm gonna hit you on the head with a caveman club. _

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_**Chapter 15 – I do**

_Affairs are easier of entrance than of exit; and it is but common prudence to see our way out before we venture in. Aesop_

"We have come together today to witness the marriage of Greg and Allison. The legal requirements of this state having been fulfilled, and the license for their marriage being present, I must ask of each party if they come of their own free will and accord."

The conservatively dressed woman in late 40's turned out to be the one performing the ceremony. Standing in front of a massive mahogany desk, she read the text from a leather folder using a very formal tone. She was well versed in this and had without a doubt already performed a countless number of ceremonies. Wilson stood on her left-hand side with a very respectful expression on his face while House and Cameron stood on her right, neither of them showing any emotion.

"Allison, do you come to this union of your free will, with no pressure upon you from other persons?" the woman asked, lifting her head to look at Cameron in a rather stern manner.

Cameron answered without a moment's hesitation, "I do."

Satisfied with the answer, the woman turned to House with the same question, "Greg, do you come to this union of your free will, with no pressure upon you from other persons?"

As House didn't answer immediately, Cameron turned her head to look at him expectantly.

House subtly raised his eyebrows at her to point out the irony, yet answered nonetheless, "I do."

The woman was too caught up in her formal ways to notice the exchange and therefore turned around to question Wilson.

"Does the witness know of any reason why we may not legally continue with this wedding?"

Wilson gazed at the couple intently as if trying to read their minds. House and Cameron responded by sending him a death glare. Wilson was the first to cave, probably too afraid of House's retribution to try to pull any stunts.

Yet, even as he answered, "I do not," his expression clearly conveyed that he wanted all the details as soon as the ceremony was over.

The registrar turned a page and continued, "Allison and Greg asked me to read the next passage by Andrew Boyd:

We're all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you've been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there's no right person, just different flavours of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn't until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems--the ones that make you truly who you are--that we're ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you're looking for. You're looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person--someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, 'This is the problem I want to have.'"

You could say that House was impressed by Cameron's choice. He expected something sappy enough to make him nauseous, so this was a nice surprise, even though it was still a bit on the sweet side. Apparently Wilson approved of the selection as well, as he was grinning madly.

Oblivious to what was going on around her, the woman carried on, "Allison, do you take Greg to be your wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honour and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?"

Cameron barely waited for the registrar to finish her sentence before she rushed out, "I do." Her eyes were firmly focused on the woman, who was gazing at her with piercing eyes.

"Greg, do you take Allison to be your wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honour and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, forsaking all others, be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?"

This was the moment it all came down to and House was well aware of that. Somehow he found himself unable to open his mouth. He looked at Wilson out of the corner of his eye to see him smirking. That bastard was enjoying this way too much. As it happened it was just the right motivation to make him let out a slightly breathless, "I do."

His heart began to beat faster yet again and he wanted nothing more than to just get the hell out of there. It seemed as if the air in the room got impossibly warmer, making him sweat profusely. He tugged at the tie with his cane-free hand to at least slightly lessen the suffocating feeling, however it only made matters worse.

"The pledges you will now repeat are a statement of your present intent and future commitment. They cannot endure unless you make them endure with the resources you will draw from deep within yourselves. Allison and Greg, please face each other and hold hands."

For the first time in a while, Cameron looked directly at him. House noticed a brief look of panic cross her face before she expertly concealed it.

The registrar gave a meaningful cough, obviously wanting to move things along. It helped to break House's trance and he took a step closer to the wall to rest his cane against it. Returning to his spot, he wiped his hands against his pants before offering his open palms to Cameron.

As she accepted the offer, he immediately felt her cold, clammy palms contrast his warm and moist ones.

"Allison, as you look at Greg, repeat these words after me:

I, Allison, take you, Greg

to be no other than yourself.

Loving what I know of you,

trusting what I do not yet know,

with respect for your integrity,

and faith in your abiding love for me,

through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."

She faltered slightly when she spoke his first name for the first time. The whole situation was so surreal. And it didn't help at all that he was looking at her with that intense concentration or the fact that the suit he was wearing made him look almost…angelic. She desperately tried to cling to the reality. She had to remind herself that none of this was real. It was only a sham, yet it was so easy to forget that and truly believe in the words she was saying.

Needless to say, House was extremely uncomfortable with all the feelings flying around, fake or otherwise. His confident appearance was nothing but an act, which was very difficult to maintain given the way Cameron looked at him. That glimmer of something in her eyes only flared up when he said his part of vows. The only thought that crossed his mind at the time was that this would without a doubt end in a disaster of epic proportions.

"Do you have the rings with you?" asked the registrar, shaking the pair out of their reverie. Wilson stepped forward and presented the two rings.

"The ring is a symbol of unity into which your two lives are now joined in an unbroken circle; in which, wherever you go, you will return to one another. Allison, please place the ring on Greg's left ring finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

Cameron took the larger ring and slid it slowly on House's finger while repeating the words. Her eyes never left the ring.

"Greg, please place the ring on Allison's left ring finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed."

House took the remaining ring and Wilson retreated back to his former spot.

House fingered the delicate metal, already felling his wedding band weigh him down as if it was made of lead and not white gold. There was a reason why they called it a wedding band. He might as well wear a noose around his neck.

He slid the ring on her finger and repeated the sentence while staring her down. She could sense a hint of anger, or was it resentment in his eyes. As soon as the ring found its place on her hand, she turned away from him, as if in shame.

"In conclusion I will read an excerpt from _Gift from the Sea_ by Anne Morrow Lindbergh:

When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment.  
It is an impossibility.  
It is even a lie to pretend to.  
And yet this is exactly what most of us demand.  
We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships.  
We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb.  
We are afraid it will never return.  
We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity - in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.  
The only real security is not in owning or possessing, not in demanding or expecting, not in hoping, even.  
Security in a relationship lies neither in looking back to what was in nostalgia, nor forward to what it might be in dread or anticipation, but living in the present relationship and accepting it as it is now.  
Relationships must be like islands, one must accept them for what they are here and now, within their limits - islands, surrounded and interrupted by the sea, and continually visited and abandoned by the tides."

House was overjoyed that the ceremony was coming to an end, yet at the same time he knew that this was not the end, but a beginning. A beginning of something that will most likely make him think of this ceremony as of something perfectly enjoyable in retrospect.

"We know not what the future may bring into the life of this couple, but together may they be equal to the needs of their tomorrows. May they have patience in time of strain, strength in time of weakness, courage in time of doubt, and above all, a growing love to sustain them."

Oh, he knew what the future will bring them. He knew all too well. Ruin, lots of crying and possibly yelling. On the bright side, at least he'll win the bet and 7 months off of clinic duty were almost worth the suffering he'll have to go through.

"And now, for as much as you have made your vows, each to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving your rings, I now pronounce by the authority vested in me, and in accordance with the laws of the State of New Jersey, that you are husband and wife."

The woman closed the folder and for the first time showed an inkling of a smile when she said the next words, "You may seal your promise with a kiss."

House and Cameron looked at each other apprehensively. Of course they knew that a kiss was the cliché part of each wedding ceremony, yet their minds were preoccupied with more important things to dwell on this fact.

House rested his hands on her waist pulling her closer. He tried not to think how utterly romantic it was to share the first kiss on their wedding day… no, not romantic but ridiculous.

He could feel Wilson's eyes boring into them. Talking about stage fright.

Cameron lightly rested her palms on his chest, very distinctly aware of his warmth seeping through her thin dress where his hands made contact with the delicate material.

Their lips made contact and she immediately forgot about the world around her. It was delicate and very enjoyable. Just as she was starting to relax a little, her hands sliding a bit higher to make contact with the skin on his neck, a sudden flash of light startled both of them. They jumped apart as if they were burned and turned their heads in the direction of the cause.

It was none other than Wilson, holding a digital camera and smiling widely.

"Don't mind me," he said.

House was just about to say something when the woman spoke again and by the look of annoyance on his face, it was good that she did.

"In accordance with the Law of the State of New Jersey, we will now sign and witness the marriage license."

The license was signed by all parties and the registrar congratulated House and Cameron, before they left the room followed closely by Wilson.

"So, what's the deal here?" he asked the moment they were out of the room.

"Sorry Jimmy, but we're busy. Got to consummate the marriage," House answered, winking at his friend while trying to guide Cameron towards the elevator as fast as possible.

"Wait," Wilson called after them, "How am I supposed to get home?"

"Call a cab," House called back before disappearing behind the elevator doors.

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**A/N:** _That passage by Andrew Boyd is from his book called __Daily Afflictions: The Agony of Being Connected to Everything in the Universe__, which is by the looks of it a great read for any fellow cynics out there. (I really need to get my hands on it.) Next chapter: I'm still deciding on the smut vs. no smut issue and I suppose you'll see how I decide in the next chapter, which will be up… no idea when. I'm still in the war zone here, but sometime next week sounds doable. _


	16. The road taken

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_I am relieved that you liked the previous chapter, because building up expectations is a dangerous thing. It can go either way. Here's another one you've been eagerly awaiting and I hope that you won't be too disappointed. _

_The stanza is from a poem called __The Road Not Taken__ which was written by Robert Frost. It's one of my favourites. _:)_ One interpretation would be that the two roads are two possible choices you can make in life. No matter which one you will decide to take, you will always wonder 'what if', so you might as well choose the more 'exotic' and perhaps the more dangerous one. Dare to be different and to take chances others are afraid to take. Dare to marry a guy for a bet, even though most people wouldn't want to come anywhere near him. _;)

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**Chapter 16 – The road taken**

_I shall be telling this with a sigh  
Somewhere ages and ages hence:  
two roads diverged in a wood, and I --  
I took the one less traveled by,  
And that has made all the difference._

Cameron was observing the night scenery through the side window. The heavy darkness of the night was occasionally pierced by lights from the passing cars or the bright signs inviting her to Tom & Mike's diner or The Thirsty Camel bar.

Her right hand was absently playing with her wedding band. House hasn't spoken a word since they parted ways with Wilson, and neither did she.

They were married now and she felt lost. It might be that she somehow doubted that they would really go through with it and therefore didn't bother thinking about what would happen if they _did_ go through with it. How would her life change then?

She wasn't afraid as much as she was unsure of how to proceed. It felt as if she were on the crossroads, clueless about which road to choose… only that she has already chosen and even took the first few steps into the unknown.

Unbeknownst to her, House felt the same way. She was supposed to cave in and admit her defeat! He was the stubborn one and she was the one that always yielded. Under different circumstances he might be able to admire how she skilfully managed to cone him into marrying her, but momentarily he just tried to make sense of the current situation.

He didn't even know where he was supposed to take her now! Her place? His place? Asking her was not an option. His place seemed like the reasonable choice. When they arrive he'll just take his cues from her.

5 minutes later they entered his apartment. The first things he did were loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top few buttons. Cameron immediately took off her high heels and he briefly entertained the idea that women must really be crazy to wear those things.

"So…" he began, fishing for any answer that would indicate future course of action.

"So…" she replied with a small smile and barely a hint of nervousness.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments before he decided that being direct might just be the best option in this situation.

"What you said about the hookers… Were you serious?" he asked cautiously, trying to measure her reaction. He looked almost like a little boy expecting to be reprimanded for his question. Cute.

She simply smiled and answered, "Of course."

When he showed no indication of continuing the conversation, she gave him another smile and said "Let's go," while confidently making her way to his bedroom.

When a beautiful women offers to have sex with you, who was he to say no. He followed a few steps behind her.

When he entered the room, she just stood there, barefoot and looking entirely out of place. Her small frame and pale skin contrasted the dark shades of his robust furniture. A little girl lost in a dark forest. He couldn't resist her.

Dropping his cane on a nearby chair he stopped directly in front of her, his eyes challenging her.

She didn't falter. Her hands slid up his chest, all the way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. She touched her lips to his and he rested his hands on her waist, joining in on the kiss. Their lips parted shortly and she slowly slid his jacket off his shoulders, making it land in a heap on the floor.

Their lips met once again, while she tugged on his tie, which disentangled almost immediately and drifted down his body.

Her hands wound back behind his neck and she pressed herself closer to his body. He slid his hands towards her back, encircling her completely, and deepened the kiss.

As they parted once more, she let one of her hands slide towards the top buttons of his shirt and started unbuttoning them, one by one.

She felt his hot breath on her lips when he spoke, "Are you sure you want this?"

He pulled back a little to look at her face.

Her fingers continued their work as she spoke with certainty, "Having second thoughts?"

He frowned. "No."

"Then shut up," she commanded as she freed the last button.

Making quick work of his cuffs, she let her hands travel up from his abdomen to his shoulders, sliding them under his shirt. Her fingernails lightly scraped the skin on his arms before the shirt pooled at his feet.

He yanked her closer then and kissed her passionately. One of his hands slid from her waist down her thigh and he scrunched up the fabric of her dress in his fist. With the help of his other hand, he pulled her little dress over her head by the hem.

When he turned back after flunking the dress in some far away corner of the room, his breath caught.

She was standing there, almost entirely naked. The only piece of clothing that remained on her, were her light blue panties. His lips were slightly parted, his breaths coming in short pants now and for a few moments all he could do was stare at her perfect body.

Gaining back his senses, he pushed her, almost gently, on the bed. He rid himself of his shoes and socks while she positioned herself in the middle of it and then he laid on her, resting his forearms on either side of her face.

The intensity of his gaze was almost too much for her to bear, but she didn't have to dwell on that any longer since their lips met again, making her eyes slip closed.

All the while she held him tightly, savouring the skin on skin contact and the way his scruff felt against her lips and neck. His right hand slowly travelled down her body and cupped her breast. Her only thought when he ran his thumb over her nipple was that she needed him closer.

She pushed him on his back and slowly made a trail of kisses from hiss lips to his navel, stopping just above his belt. She settled between his parted thighs, swiftly unbuckling his belt, popping open the button and unzipping his pants. Just when she was about to pull them off, his hand on hers stopped her.

She looked at him to discover that he was staring at the ceiling, breathing harshly.

Deciding to disregard his insecurities, she pulled his pants off and then gently trailed her hands up his legs. She stopped when her left hand came in contact with the jagged flesh of his damaged thigh. Her eyes connected with his and for a moment she saw apprehension mirrored in them.

Overwhelmed by emotion, she crawled back up his body and gently kissed him.

Apparently that was the end of his brief moment of vulnerability as he rolled them over, taking the control back.

Their kisses became more desperate and it wasn't long before he pulled off her panties; shortly after, his boxers followed suit with her help.

They shared a few more short kisses before House reached over to the night cabinet and pulled out a condom wrapper.

He looked deep into her eyes when he entered her.

She allowed him to set the pace, subjecting herself to his needs. Her soft pants against his ear only served to encourage him further.

A few thrusts later her breath caught in her throat and he followed her over the edge with a groan.

His head resting on her shoulder, they were both trying to steady their harsh breathing and rapid heart rates.

Suddenly she felt him move and could only watch as he limped into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He didn't meet her eyes.

Sounds of running water broke the silence. She felt completely exposed, so she drew the covers up her body, satisfied with the little protection they could offer her.

He came back a minute or so later, avoiding her gaze yet again, climbed under the covers next to her and began intently examining the ceiling. It was barely 9 pm and they were anything but sleepy, yet lying in the bed with a decent amount of space between them seemed to be the safest idea at the moment.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

**A/N: **_I know this is not very explicit, but funnily enough, I only get the urge to write explicitly when I use absurd, irony, grotesque and the likes. On that note, do you think it should be rated T or M? I changed it to M, just to be on the safe side. _

_There should definitely be a new chapter next week. My hectic 'Oh no, I'm not gonna meet the deadlines' situation will tone down to a mere 'I really wish I had a day off' mid next week. Yay! _:)


	17. Let's get a move on

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_This chapter was supposed to be up a lot sooner but it seems that the exhaustion of the previous months finally caught up with me. We can observe Newton's first law of motion in action here. As soon as I decided to take a day or two off, well you see what happened… However, I am gaining momentum once again and hopefully things will start running much more smoothly from now on. _:)

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Let's get a move on**

House opened his eyes, feeling the usual morning fuzziness as his brain gradually started coming to life. He rubbed his face and yawned widely, before automatically reaching for his pills. Swallowing two, he suddenly realised that he was in a desperate need of a shower. He pulled off the covers and limped into the bathroom. He briefly wondered why he slept naked last night, yet he soon dismissed that fact as irrelevant. Nevertheless, he couldn't shake the thought that he was missing something. Whatever could that be…

He stepped into the shower and let the hot water run down his body. It must have been the persistent cascade of water that made him remember. Cameron. His _wife_. Where did she go?

He couldn't help but wonder whether her sudden disappearance meant that she surrendered. No, he shouldn't be so rash in making conclusions, she might even still be somewhere in the apartment. Although, he didn't remember seeing her clothes on his way to the bathroom.

He quickly finished the shower to be able to investigate the matter. He grabbed a towel from the rack and started drying himself on his way back to the bedroom, not caring about the watery trail he was leaving behind.

He was right, her clothes were gone. He quickly got dressed and limped into the living room. No trace of her there and neither was she in the kitchen. She didn't have her car here, so she must have called a cab while he was sleeping.

He plopped down on the couch. It was unlike her to leave without even leaving him a note, which could only mean that she did rethink the whole idea. Accepting that conclusion as the truth, he took a moment to ponder what that meant. He was not sure how he felt about it. If nothing else, at least he expected more of a fight from her side. She was the one that started this after all.

His phone rang, startling him out of his musings

"Why aren't you answering your cell phone?"

He was momentarily confused by the sudden question. It was Cameron.

"What?"

"Your cell phone. Why aren't you answering it?" she repeated the question.

He tried to mentally retake the steps he took last night. The first thing that came to his mind were the contours of her naked body, the feel of her skin… Suddenly realising that she was still waiting for an answer he tried to free his head of that kind of thoughts and actually focus on the question.

"Well?"

"I'm not sure where it is," he finally managed.

The fact that he was talking to Cameron finally settling in his mind, he asked her, "Where are you?"

"At my apartment. I'm waiting for the movers, that's why I'm calling. We should be at your place in less than an hour and I thought it would be good if you got ready," she paused for a moment, "Oh, and call Wilson, we could probably use some help."

"And I thought your sudden disappearance was you waving a white flag."

"Disappointed?" she asked him in an amused tone.

"It would be a shame to end the marriage before we got to blame each other for wasting the best years of our lives and ended up in a fierce custody battle for a Shih Tzu."

He heard her soft laughter over the line and his lips unconsciously broke into a smile.

"Now that _would _be a shame. Don't forget to call Wilson," she reminded him before hanging up.

Wilson… Well that will be fun.

He took a deep breath before dialling his number.

It took quite a couple of rings, before he heard the distinct click and after a short pause Wilson spoke, "Wilson."

"How soon can you be at my place?"

There was another short pause before Wilson answered, "Listen, I'm kind of in the middle of something… Is it urgent?"

Well, that was interesting.

"In the middle of what or should I say who?"

"House," Wilson warned him.

"Alright…But if you don't get here I won't tell you the whole story."

"I'll be there in 20," Wilson said before hanging up.

House knew that the conversation with Wilson will be anything but pleasant, so he might as well do it on a full stomach. He went into the kitchen to enjoy his regular morning diet of peanut butter sandwiches and coffee.

***18 min later***

There was a knock on the door.

"It's open," House yelled from the couch.

Wilson didn't need to be told twice. He marched in straight away and sat down on the couch, waiting expectantly. House sighed.

"You wouldn't believe if I said we suddenly fell madly in love and decided waiting is pointless?"

"No," answered Wilson with a smile.

"What about if I said it was love at first sight, we just didn't get together because of certain obstacles…"

"Obstacles meaning that you were an idiot."

House smirked in a somewhat sheepish manner. "Something like that."

"Nice try, but no. Would you stop evading and tell me what this is about?"

House could tell that Wilson was getting slightly annoyed. That was a good thing when it came down to deep and meaningful conversations because it made it much easier to lead him off the track.

"Right, wouldn't want to let your rebound girl waiting."

"There's no girl," Wilson raised his voice in exasperation.

"Of course there isn't…" House answered condescendingly.

"Either you tell me or I go." Uh oh, it appeared Wilson didn't want to play anymore. Time to face the music.

"Fine," House grumbled, "We made a bet. Me and Cameron."

"What kind of bet?" Wilson was intrigued now.

"You know that patient that was being poisoned by his wife?"

"Kind of hard to forget."

"Well, we made a bet in the beginning of the case. Cameron claimed that they're happily married while naturally I claimed that they're not. And naturally, I won."

"Naturally," Wilson quipped.

House chose to let that slip. He had no intention of making this conversation any longer than it needed to be.

"Apparently Cameron didn't like that outcome so she dared me to increase the wager and that's how we got married."

Wilson was quite obviously confused. "I don't get it."

House sighed theatrically and then proceeded to tell the story in detail, "We'll be married for 7 months and in that time she'll try to prove to me that there is such a thing as a happy marriage."

Wilson frowned. "How is that supposed to work? Two people can't just randomly decide to marry and be happy. It doesn't even always work out for couples who love each other and have been together several years before deciding to get married."

"Hey, no need to persuade me. I only agreed to do it because I know I'll win and then she'll owe me 7 months of clinic duty," House said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Wilson suddenly turned very serious. "House, you can't do this."

"Already done," said House still smirking.

"You can still call the whole thing off, get the marriage annulled," Wilson suggested with slight panic in his voice.

"Why would I do that? I told you she'll be doing my clinic duty for 7 months plus I'll get a free hooker, maid and personal chef all in one till then."

Wilson was outraged. "House… You can't play with her like this. The girl's in love with you."

"She said she's over me," House defended feebly.

"And you believed her?" Wilson asked incredulously.

House looked away and rubbed his forehead before answering, "Look, she's an adult and she knows what she's getting herself into. Besides, it was her idea."

"What's this, 5th grade? She started it?"

"She knows what she's doing…" House tried once more.

"I don't think she does, otherwise she would never go through with this. Do you realise what will happen when the 7 months are over? Do you honestly think that she'll be able to work with you like nothing happened? What will you do when she decides to leave? I don't think that a date will be enough to make her stay this time."

House was beginning to get agitated by Wilson's arguments. Those were all things that he was trying to avoid thinking about. His plan was to face those issues when he had to and no sooner.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing. What about you? You keep marrying women even though you know you'll end up breaking their heart. How is that different?"

First rule of war: Create a diversion.

"Oh don't make this about me. I never intentionally hurt any of them."

House internally congratulated himself. Wilson was getting defensive, which meant he won this battle.

"But you did hurt them while they trusted you while Cameron knows what she's in for."

Wilson was clearly getting frustrated.

"It will end in the same way. I don't think either of you has thought of the consequences. When this marriage will be over, it will be over. You should stop this insanity if you feel anything at all for her."

Nice one, bringing emotions into play…He had to give him that.

House huffed.

"I'm serious," Wilson said.

"You're just jealous because I'm married and you're getting a divorce," House pouted.

Wilson sighed. "Yeah, that must be it." Trying to reason with House when he set his mind on something was mission impossible.

That's when the door opened and Cameron entered the apartment followed by two muscular guys wearing blue overalls and carrying large boxes.

**

* * *

****A/N: **_You might remember that I told you about a certain literary competition that I took part in. Well, we can safely say that it was a complete failure. One of my favourite, if not __**the **__favourite person that ever trod this planet once said that some people can have their head in the clouds and their feet on the ground since they are giants. But those of us who are not that tall have to choose. Sometimes getting a huge anvil dropped on your head (metaphorically, don't know about literally) is the best thing that could happen to you. _

_Next chapter: I've got this obligatory thing Tuesday evening but the goal is Wednesday/Thursday. _


	18. It's just a bet

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Ok, so I'm one day late, but I am faster than last time. Even though the chapter is of the usual shorter variety. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 18 - It's just a bet**

"_I'm serious," Wilson said. _

"_You're just jealous because I'm married and you're getting a divorce," House pouted._

_Wilson sighed. "Yeah, that must be it." Trying to reason with House when he set his mind on something was mission impossible. _

_That's when the door opened and Cameron entered the apartment followed by two muscular guys wearing blue overalls and carrying large boxes. _

She greeted the two doctors with a smile and said to the movers, "You can drop the boxes over there."

Noticing Wilson's curious expression, she asked him, "Didn't House tell you why you're here?"

Wilson glanced at House, "He seems to have left that part out."

Cameron shot House a look, in response to which he just shrugged and said, "What? You said I had to get him here, you didn't say how."

Cameron sighed and turned her gaze to Wilson. "As you might have noticed, I'm moving in today and I could use a hand, especially since I doubt House will be of much help."

"Sorry, no can do. I've got a doctor's note, all strenuous physical activity is strictly forbidden. By the way…" House said while nodding towards the door, "your gorillas left the door open."

"That's because there's more boxes in the truck."

Sure enough, the two men entered the apartment once again, carrying a large box. Several more boxes were brought in afterwards, when House commented, "Jeez, are you bringing your whole apartment with you?"

"These are just the essentials."

House grimaced and grumbled something about women under his breath.

All the boxes were finally brought into the apartment about quarter of an hour later and Cameron thanked the movers as she paid the bill.

She then turned around to look at the living room which was now littered with cardboard boxes of various sizes.

"Well, we better get to work then, shall we?" she said.

Wilson immediately stood up, ready to help, while House stayed on the couch in what appeared to be a very relaxed position.

Just when he was about to turn on the TV, Cameron stopped him, "You'll need to make some space for my clothes in your closet."

Without looking at her, House responded, "No, _you_ will need to make some space in my closet," and turned on the TV.

Wilson didn't fail to notice the agitated expression on Cameron's face, even though she tried to conceal it when she turned to face him.

"I'll need those three boxes," she said, pointing at them, "I'll go ahead and make some space."

Wilson obediently grabbed the first one and then followed her into the bedroom.

Cameron was actually surprised by the state of House's closet. She expected chaos, but what she found was only mild disorder. His shirts and pants were all somewhat neatly folded at the bottom and his jackets were all on hangers.

She opened the first box and began unpacking, when Wilson brought the last one in. He sat down on the bed, observing her.

Cameron could sense a strange mood drifting over from Wilson, so she turned around. The worried expression on his face told her everything she needed to know.

"He told you," she stated.

Wilson nodded and she sighed. "If you want to give me another of your 'don't break his heart' speeches, save it. This is nothing personal, it's just a… bet."

"It's something I would expect from him, but what on earth possessed you to take this bet?" Wilson asked her gravely.

She smiled. "Actually, I was the one to suggest it."

"I know and it doesn't make any sense, unless…"

"Unless what?" she challenged him, determination in her eyes.

"Unless this is your last-ditch effort to start something with him."

The traces of pity in his voice made her angry. "I'm over him."

"So you keep saying."

"Why does everyone assume that I must be in love with him if I agree to play one of his games, while when it comes to House, everyone just says 'that's House being House'?" Cameron raised her voice.

She glanced worriedly at the door when she realised that the subject of their conversation was just down the hall and decided she better close them.

"Who says I didn't question his motives as well?" she turned around at the sound of Wilson's voice.

He noticed a glimmer of curiosity cross her face, but she kept quiet.

"This is not you, Cameron," Wilson said shaking his head.

"Maybe you just don't know me that well."

He paused before asking her, "Just tell me one thing; are you doing this for yourself or for him?"

"I told you…"

"Right," he interrupted her, "This is just a bet. But when it's over…"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Then one of us will win and the other will lose."

"You'll stay? Keep working for him?"

Wilson could tell that his question took her by surprise. She didn't know or perhaps she didn't want to acknowledge the truth of it.

"If the last time you left was anything to go by, then… He needs you. He may never say it out loud but he needs someone who'll stand by him. I can't always be that person."

A heavy silence stretched across the room before Wilson broke it, "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"You can reassemble my treadmill, it's in one of the bigger boxes," she answered distractedly.

When he left, she continued with her task vehemently, trying desperately not to think of Wilson's words. It was too late to back out now.

The rest of the day passed by with Cameron finding a proper place for all of her clothes, toilet utensils, cookware, books and other knick-knacks. During the day, House proved to be semi-useful by ordering take out and actually paying for it. According to him, that meant he did his fair share of work.

It was late in the afternoon when Wilson finally took his leave and left the newlyweds to fend for themselves. The awkwardness returned.

* * *

**A/N: **_I think there will be one more boring chapter before we move on to Monday, guess what happens then. _:)


	19. Weekend

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_This was supposed to be up a lot sooner but I had some essay crises and other issues. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 19 - Weekend**

_It was late in the afternoon when Wilson finally took his leave and left the newlyweds to fend for themselves. The awkwardness returned. _

* * *

For the last half an hour, Cameron and House have been watching a documentary on whale songs. 'It could be worse', Cameron thought as she listened to the distinct mating calls of humpback whales. House has relinquished the remote control and she figured that watching something, anything, is better than sitting in silence, even though the peaceful sounds of whales and the ocean were making her sleepy. She glanced towards the other end of the couch where House was resting with his feet on the coffee table and seemingly very enthralled by the documentary.

Another half an hour went by before the documentary ended. Cameron started surfing the channels to find something new to occupy them when House spoke, "Want to make out?"

He was looking at her expectantly and as far as she could tell, he was being serious. She briefly considered the suggestion and decided that it would at least give them something to do, so she turned off the TV and scooted over to him.

He didn't waste any time as he immediately laid her down on the couch, covering her with his body. She couldn't help but still feel a bit uncomfortable about it. It wasn't about the physical proximity or the fact that it was him, it was much more complicated than that. She simply didn't know how to feel and she was afraid that if she showed any feelings, he would misinterpret them as real. That was the last thing she wanted, but at the same time she felt the pressure to be open, because it was the only way to win this bet.

She tried to relax and focus solely on his kisses. Just as she began to give in, House's stomach grumbled. He hesitated for a moment before catching her lips once again only to be yet again interrupted by his stomach's protests. He growled in frustration, hiding his head in the crook of her neck and she couldn't help but laugh whole-heartedly. She began rubbing his back comfortingly and said, "Come on, I'll make us something to eat."

He moved off of her and she made her way towards the kitchen while he turned on the TV again.

Barely a couple of minutes went by as Cameron came back into the room, carrying a plate of sandwiches.

"You only have peanut butter. Don't you ever go to the store?"

He snatched one of the sandwiches from the plate and stuffed half of it in his mouth.

"Sure. When I run out of peanut butter," he replied once he swallowed the bite.

They ate, they watched TV, they showered and then went to bed, yet they barely spoke a word all this time. Even when they lay in bed, there was still this awkward silence present. Cameron wanted to give him his space. She didn't want to push him too hard too soon. For some reason, she didn't want him to throw in the towel just yet, not before it even properly began. So, she stayed on her side and kept quiet.

* * *

House woke up the next day around 9 am because of the pain in his leg. This time he immediately noticed the lack of his sleeping partner. He couldn't help but think that she was intentionally staying out of his way. His suspicions were confirmed when he found a note in the living room. She wrote that she still has some things to take care of, one of them being grocery shopping. She'll be back sometime in the late afternoon or evening.

She was definitely avoiding him which was fine by him. He was used to living alone and the constant presence of another person was unnerving to him. However, they spent even less time together than when Wilson was staying at his place. He wasn't complaining, he was more of anticipating what was to come. She was sure to step up the game at some point. If he were honest, he was surprised she didn't start suffocating him from the moment they stepped through the threshold.

She could be having second thoughts. There were times when he really believed that, and there were times when he was sure that she was enjoying herself. Both could be true. Personally, he was fine with the situation up to this moment. The awkwardness bothered him a bit, yet he preferred it to her being all over him. So, as far as he was concerned, everything was as good as it could be _and_ he was wining.

It was 9 pm when Cameron finally came back, her arms full of groceries. She didn't explain to him what all those errands were and he didn't ask. By the time she took care of everything and took a shower it was already 10 pm. She looked tired, therefore he wasn't surprised when she told him she was going to bed. He simply shrugged and grumbled something noncommittal.

He would much prefer to stay awake a while longer, but they haven't discussed yet how they will handle the situation tomorrow, so he stood up with a sigh and went to take a quick shower.

It didn't take long before he was climbing into bed next to her. He could tell that she was still awake by the sound of her breathing.

"About tomorrow…" he started once he got settled.

She immediately turned around to face him.

"Yes?" she prompted him.

"We'll keep the bet to ourselves, right?" he inquired.

She nodded. "It's better that way. I don't want everyone telling me that I'm crazy just yet."

"I'm pretty sure they will tell you that either way."

She smiled despite the fact that she knew he was right.

"Do you want us to go in together or…" he let the sentence trail off.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

Perhaps there was minute hope in her voice that they would go together or he could be just imagining it, either way, he chose to ignore it.

"Good, because I have absolutely no intention of waking up at whichever ungodly hour you usually wake up."

She smiled. "Around 7."

"You're crazy," House answered with a tone that made it perfectly clear that he fully believed that.

"Oh, and don't you dare blow-drying your hair or clipping your nails in the morning."

The look of confusion on her face made him elaborate further.

"That's what you girls do. Wilson was driving me crazy with his morning ritual," House complained.

She laughed at that. "Don't worry, I usually wash my hair in the evening," she reassured him.

"Good," he said firmly before adding, "So far you're proving to be a much better roomie than Wilson."

Her smile got even wider. "Is that a compliment?"

House frowned. "No… I wasn't complimenting you, I was insulting Wilson. But I can see how you could get those two mixed up."

Once again, silence stretched between them, only this time, it was companionable.

"Good night," Cameron wished him after a while, before turning to face away from him once again.

"Night," House mumbled before turning around as well.

* * *

**A/N: **_Updates should be coming twice a week again. The operative word being should. And the next chapter will be their first day at work as a husband and wife. Now that will be fun! _


	20. The outing

**Disclaimer**: _Nope._

**A/N: **_Warning: This chapter features Cuddy. Proceed at your own risk._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 20 – The outing**

House threw the file on the solved cases pile and started searching through the waiting patients' folders. Diarrhoea, cold, headache… He decided to take the last one if he doesn't find anything more interesting. Just as he opened the last file to discover that the patient had a rash in his groin area, he heard the distinct sound of stilettos approach him.

"You're actually doing your clinic hours without me having to drag you down here, that's a first," Cuddy announced her presence.

House flopped the file closed, opting for the headache case.

"I feel it is my duty as a doctor to help these poor afflicted people. It's the smile of gratitude that we receive for our long and demanding labour that makes it all worth a while, don't you think?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes when suddenly something strange caught her attention.

"What's that on your finger?"

"What?" House asked, pretending not to know what she was talking about. "There's nothing," he added while meticulously examining his ring-free hand.

"The other hand," Cuddy clarified to stop his antics.

House made a show out of looking at his other hand, acting as if he only now understood what she was referring to. "Oh, you mean this?" he said, showing her his hand, palm facing inwards. "It's a ring," he explained condescendingly, "You gals wear them all the time."

"I know it's a ring. What's it doing on that finger?" she asked while pointing at it.

"It's where you're supposed to wear wedding rings."

"Exactly," Cuddy said pointedly.

"Good, glad we cleared that up," House answered and started walking away when the sound of her voice stopped him in his tracks, "House!"

He sighed and slowly turned around, giving her an exasperated look. She closed in on him and asked him in a demanding tone, "Why are you wearing a wedding ring?"

"You're always on my case about doing my job and when I actually want to do it, you don't let me. I can never understand you women," he complained.

The steely expression on her face let him know that she will not leave without an answer. He sighed.

"It's a wedding ring. Do I really need to explain it any further?"

She didn't move a muscle, so he continued, "I'm married."

Cuddy gave a fake laugh. "To whom?"

House briefly considered whether or not to answer her truthfully. He decided on the former, as she would find out eventually anyway.

"Cameron," he told her without the usual conviction in his voice. For some reason he was very apprehensive of her reaction.

Cuddy raised her eyebrows. "Am I supposed to believe that?"

House shrugged. "It's your call, but it doesn't make it any less true."

He walked away before she could get another word in.

* * *

"Do we really need to do this now?"

"You knew this was coming sooner or later."

"Yeah, but I would prefer later."

House gave Cameron an odd look. "I never thought you would be the one avoiding obligations."

She sighed.

"This whole thing was your idea," he reminded her.

"I know," she huffed, trying to keep up with his fast pace.

Reaching their destination, House not so gently opened the door and strode into Cuddy's office.

"You seemed to not believe me before, so I brought you the proof," he said while pulling Cameron closer to him.

Cuddy looked at House's confident demeanour and then at a less than comfortable Cameron, who clearly wished to be anywhere else but there.

"Doctor Cameron," she prompted her.

Cameron tore her eyes from the ground and admitted, "He told you the truth."

Cuddy opened her mouth, about to say something and then closed it again. She kept glancing from one doctor to the other. Seemingly reaching a conclusion, she leaned forward in the chair and trained her eyes on Cameron.

She used her most reassuring tone on her, "Whatever he did to make you play his game, he has no power."

She gave House a despotic stare and said, "I own him. You don't have to lie for him."

Cameron got slightly offended by the fact that Cuddy thought she would give in to House's whims so easily, therefore her answer held a bit more edge than usually.

"It _is_ the truth. We got married on Friday, if you need to see the papers, I can bring them in tomorrow."

Cuddy's expression changed to one of utter confusion. She didn't expect this blow.

"She still doesn't believe us," House said to Cameron disappointedly, shaking his head.

"What do you say we give her something to think about?"

Before she could answer, he swept her into his arms, holding her securely while he dipped her. Her arms instinctively wound around his neck for support and she didn't hesitate at all to return his kiss.

When he slowly returned them into a vertical position, she got lost in his eyes and for a few moments completely forgot that they were not alone in the room. House on the other hand was completely unfazed. He turned back to Cuddy with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

To say that Cuddy was shocked would be an understatement. House internally congratulated himself. He still got it.

Meanwhile, Cameron picked up House's cane that got discarded during their previous activity and handed it back to him. By the look on her face, she was rather embarrassed about the whole situation.

Cuddy cleared her throat, slipping back into her administrator role. "Well, if this is indeed true, then we have certain things to discuss. The fact that you two work in the same department…"

"It won't be a problem," House interrupted her.

"I am sure that you believe that, but according to my experience…"

"People are idiots. You got my vote on that, no need to persuade me, but Cameron…Allison here," he corrected himself, "is way too ethical to let that happen."

Even though he meant it as an argument to prove his case, he still couldn't resist the bitter tone when it came to her ethical views.

"He's right," Cameron spoke, "I won't let our personal lives interfere with our work."

Cuddy caved, even though she wasn't at all persuaded by their arguments. She knew it was impossible to separate personal and professional. "Fine. There are still some other points we need to discuss."

Suddenly, House's and Cameron's pagers went off.

They glanced at each other and then House spoke, "Sorry, _boss_, it looks like we'll have to reschedule. Duty calls."

With that they hurried out of the office to go save their patient's life.

* * *

**A/N: **_I tried to keep this more or less realistic, therefore if you expected explosions and slapstick comedy… well, you really should know better by now. *awaits complaints* Next chapter: Possibly mid next week. _


	21. Spreading the news

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_This is taking place on the same day as the last chapter. You're lucky I got this chapter out today. My keyboard suddenly decided to go on strike, so I let it take a few hours to cool down. It seems that method works on people and technology. Enjoy! _:)

* * *

**Chapter 21 – Spreading the news**

Cameron slowly opened her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock. It was five to seven, which meant she still had a couple of minutes before she had to get up. She was one of those people who had an internal alarm clock, therefore she only set an alarm when she was extremely tired. When she rolled on her back, her eyes caught her sleeping partner.

He was lying on his side, facing her, and by the looks of it, he was still sleeping deeply. The morning light permeated the room with its soft glow. She could feel it gently warming her skin and caressing House's face. He looked so peaceful; his face relaxed, lips slightly parted, his left arm hidden beneath the pillow. She felt the urge to touch him and has already moved her hand, when she faltered. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up and catch her red-handed. She rested her hand back on her stomach and sighed, taking a few more moments to indulge herself before she had to get up.

* * *

Cameron was making the morning batch of coffee when she heard someone enter the office.

"Morning," Chase greeted her, disposing of his bag before he walked up to her.

She immediately tensed. He was the last person she wanted to be alone with right now.

"Morning," she returned the greeting with fake politeness.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Chase poured himself a cup of coffee and smiled at her.

"So, how was your weekend?" he asked her after taking a sip of the black liquid.

"It was fine and yours?" she continued with the small talk.

"Pretty good." He hesitated before asking her, "I was wondering… Would you like to go for a drink after work?"

She knew this was coming sooner or later and of course he chose the perfect timing. Yet, the hopeful look on his face tugged at her heart.

"I can't," she said in her most apologetic tone.

Chase quickly masked the fleeting look of disappointment that crossed his face and tried once more, "Tomorrow?"

"I can't… the day doesn't matter."

Chase looked at her strangely. "Can't or won't?"

'_Both_,' Cameron thought, but refrained herself from saying it.

"Can't," she repeated.

"Why not?" Chase persisted.

Cameron looked into her cup of coffee. Unfortunately, it didn't offer her any inspiration.

"I'm married," she answered after a while.

When she looked at Chase's face, she could see a quick change from confusion to hurt and a bit of anger.

"Look, if you don't want to go, just say it. You don't have to lie to me," he accused her.

"I'm not lying," Cameron defended.

"Right, all of a sudden you're married. That's just great."

"I married this Friday if you must know," she shot back.

"And who's the lucky guy if I may ask?" he inquired sardonically.

"House," she answered, not meeting his eyes.

Upon hearing that, Chase started laughing, apparently assuming all of this was a joke.

When Chase was still gasping for air, trying to control his laughing fit, Foreman entered.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

Taking a few deep breaths, Chase let him in on the joke, "Cameron claims she married House on Friday."

Glancing at Cameron's abashed face, Foreman chuckled.

"Does House know this? I mean, I'd want to be informed if my marital status changed overnight," Foreman joked and Chase fell victim to another fit of laughter.

Cameron threw her hands in the air and said, "You know what, just forget it."

She picked up her cup and walked into House's office, planning to sort the mail.

* * *

"That's it!" House said and turned away from the whiteboard to look at his team. Finding the offending member, he pierced him with his stare.

"OK, I know I'm hot and frankly, I'm flattered that you think so as well… perhaps we can meet for a drink some time. But could you stop checking me out, it makes it difficult to concentrate on diagnosing the patient."

"I wasn't…" Chase sputtered, clearly alarmed at the idea.

"You weren't the one stripping me with your eyes?"

"No," Chase defended, appalled.

"Hmm, then it must have been one of you two," House said, looking at Cameron and Foreman.

He fixed his eyes on Cameron, "Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. You're allowed to do this now. Not that I'd mind it before."

Foreman raised his eyebrow at her and she blushed, uncomfortable with all this attention.

House smirked and turned back at the whiteboard.

Chase didn't even as much as lift his eyes from the table till the end of the DDX.

* * *

Gathering some possible ideas, House ordered Chase and Foreman with tests while conveniently forgetting Cameron. The guys looked at each other, about to question his orders, when House walked straight to Cameron and kissed her.

Cameron could hear a gasp of surprise from their audience and decided that she'll have to talk to House about his 'news delivering' methods. Later, though. At the moment she rather enjoyed being trapped between the table and House's body. She slid her hands around his neck, allowing his tongue entrance. There was a vague sound of scurrying in the distance.

When their lips parted, she spoke softly, "They're not here anymore."

Still holding her in his arms, House answered, "Good."

He lingered for a few more seconds, before letting go of her. "You should hurry up after them. Wouldn't want them to think I'm going easy on you."

She gave him a smile and left, still a bit shaken up.

* * *

House barged into Wilson's office and without any preamble, asked him, "Can you send me that picture from the wedding?"

Wilson grinned widely.

"Not for that reason," House grimaced, keen on preserving his dignity.

"Why do you need it then?"

House smirked. "You'll see."

Wilson crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not sending you the picture if you don't tell me why you need it."

House sighed exasperatedly. "You'll probably know it by the end of the day."

* * *

Several hours later, the photo found its way on the notice board and the news spread like wildfire through the hospital.

**

* * *

****A/N: **_Next chapter: by the end of the week, already have an outline. _


	22. Silent jealousy

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_We're still dealing with people's reactions in this chapter. It might not be as fun as the previous one but I think it's ok. Um… Happy Easter! This is actually one of the few holidays if not the only one that I enjoy. So, let this chapter be my Easter present to all of you. _:)

* * *

**Chapter 22 – Silent jealousy**

_Day 4-Tuesday_

Cameron was brushing her teeth, a towel wrapped securely around her body, when House entered the bathroom. Having overcome the initial shock, she asked him, "What are you doing up this early?"

"Taking a shower," he replied and started taking of his clothes.

"Why?" Cameron stammered, taken aback by his early rising and the striptease.

She turned back towards the sink and continued brushing her teeth, trying everything in her power not to ogle him.

Meanwhile, House stepped into the shower and started the water.

"I thought we'd go together today," he explained over the hum of the stream, "The whole hospital will know about the wedding by now, might as well give them a show. It could shut them up."

Cameron wasn't at all convinced by his reasons, yet she thought that having him next to her might at least stop the onslaught of questions the moment she entered the hospital.

She hurried up with her morning routine and then waited for him to get ready. Surprisingly, that didn't take long.

She was shocked when he allowed her to sit behind the steering wheel (of her own car, he had no intention of letting her crash his) before she discovered that he only let her do this, because he planned to take a nap on the drive there.

She was amazed at how fast he was able to fall asleep when he she tried to catch his attention upon arriving at the hospital.

"House," she called his name a bit louder this time.

It worked as he opened his eyes and mumbled, "We should call each other by first names, otherwise it'll be confusing. People will think you're taking to yourself."

She paused for a moment before answering, "I'm keeping my last name."

When he said nothing, she felt the need to explain herself, "It's only seven months. It would be pointless to change my name just to have it changed back in half a year."

"Right, I wouldn't want to deal with all that paperwork either," he said, still a bit groggily.

There was something in his tone that made her think he was less than happy to hear that news, therefore she inquired carefully, "Does that bother you?"

House shrugged, saying, "Name is just another fake sign of a bond between two people, like wedding bands or joined accounts."

Cameron frowned. "What's wrong with joined accounts?"

"Nothing. Except for the fact that each party has at least one secret account where they stash the extra income, which they probably got by selling their wedding rings and replacing them with fakes."

Cameron smiled and shook her head. Trust House to always think of the worst.

What was to follow now was inevitable, therefore they decided to just go through with it rather than to stall. They walked into the hospital confidently, very much aware of the curious glances and whispering that immediately followed. Then, for a moment everyone hushed when something unimaginable happened. House took Cameron's hand in his and the audience was dumbstruck.

Cameron took his lead, trying not to show her own shock at this action. Whether he intended the gesture to be comforting to her or not (probably not), it gave her some strength and courage. She knew that this was probably just his idea of confirming the gossip and telling everyone to back off, yet she rather liked how it felt.

He may belittle the value of wedding rings all he wants but at that moment she felt a strange connection to him, feeling her ring encompassing her finger and the sensation of his ring against her skin in their clasped hands.

* * *

Wilson was filling in a file when someone entered his office.

"House, I'm busy," he sighed, assuming his best friend came to bother him again.

When he received no reply, he looked up. "Oh, it's you," he said, mildly relived.

Cuddy stood before him with a curious expression on her face. It was a mix of annoyance and something he couldn't quite put a finger on.

"Is it true?" she demanded.

Wilson put down his pen and laid back in the chair. There was only one thing she could be referring to.

"Yes."

"They're married? How is that possible? House would never…" she trailed off, unable to even fathom the idea.

"It took me by surprise when he told me too, but they are married. I was there as his best man."

"You were there?" she took a few moments to process this information before continuing, "It could still be some sort of a joke. You know what House is like."

"It's not a joke," he said firmly, hoping she will stop prodding. He never was a good liar.

"House wouldn't marry. He was with Stacy for 5 years and they didn't even get engaged, hell they never even mentioned the word."

She paused to catch her breath. "How long have he and Cameron been together anyway? I never heard there was anything between them."

Wilson was starting to panic. Cuddy didn't want to let it go and he was afraid he won't be able to cover for his friend much longer.

"Maybe he just needed to find the right girl. Besides, they've been dancing around each other forever, this was bound to happen."

"That they got together, not that they got married."

Wilson made a vague gesture with his hands, trying to end the conversation.

"I don't know about the details. You should go talk to House."

Cuddy huffed and left his office.

* * *

House was in deep contemplation when Wilson entered his office. Their patient was still dying and he had no idea why. There was nothing that could be done about it at the moment, so he sent his team home while he stuck around to think. There was something comforting about the quiet confines of his office late at night.

"Chase started a bet on how long your marriage will last," Wilson spoke.

"Oh?" House was immediately intrigued. "The little twerp is jealous." He smirked.

"He bet on two months."

House's smirk got bigger.

"Cuddy bet on three."

House raised his eyebrows. He thought she was above that.

"Foreman… 6 months."

"Close. You got lucky," House commented.

Wilson smiled.

House spoke again after a while, "I want half of the spoils."

Wilson was startled out of his musings. "What?"

"I got you the inside information, so I deserve a fair share."

Wilson was about to protest when he realised that it would be pointless. He sighed and agreed to it.

"By the way," Wilson said, "Did you know that on that photo you pinned on the notice board someone made you into a devil and Cameron into an angel?"

House got up and started packing his things.

"Yup. They're rather nice don't you think? One of my masterpieces. Common, I need a ride home."

Wilson followed him out of the door. "Wait, you draw them?"

"Yup."

The elevator doors opened and they entered, when Wilson remembered something.

"Why do you need a ride? Where's Cameron?"

"I sent her home."

The doors slid closed. There was a slight jerk before the elevator began to descend.

* * *

**A/N: **_Moving the story or rather House and Cameron's relationship forward at the right pace is quite difficult. We're still at the beginning of the bet, so I can't have them fall all over each other yet. As for the next chapter, I haven't decided yet what it will be about, though you can expect it mid-next week. I should warn you though that things will start getting "fun" again pretty soon and when I say fun I mean no time to eat, sleep or breathe. _


	23. Pretty in pink

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I am way behind on my obligatory reading list. And yes, writing fanfiction is more fun than reading Victorian novels. That's probably part of the reason why I'm so behind. _:\

* * *

**Chapter 23 Pretty in pink**

_Day 6-Thursday_

The last two days have been insane. House was driving the team to the end of their limits, trying to diagnose the patient. They spent most of the time in the hospital since Wednesday morning, only going home for a few hours to shower and catch some sleep.

It was Thursday morning now. Cameron was running tests in the lab, desperately hoping that they will confirm their newest diagnosis. She just wanted some proper sleep. Being a doctor, people would expect that she'd be used to this by now. The truth was that you never get used to the long hours and night shifts, you just learn to muddle through somehow.

Foreman entered the lab with the same tired expression she wore on her face.

"Need any help?" he asked her.

"This is the last test," she said hopelessly, "All the others were negative."

Foreman sighed, stopping next to her to wait for the machine to do its work.

After several seconds of anxious silence, he spoke, "Can I ask you something?"

He had that curious expression on his face mixed with slight amusement and bewilderment. She had seen that face before and knew what was coming.

"Do we really have to do this now? I'm tired," she all but whined.

Foreman shrugged, "I'm just curious how it came to this. Honestly, I still find it difficult to believe and I'm pretty sure you didn't tell us the whole story. "

"That why you bet on 6 months?" she shot back.

Foreman raised his eyebrows.

"House told me."

In truth, that was about the only conversation they had in the last few days, apart from discussing the case. It was mostly because of the case. She knew House had an obsessive personality, he needed peace and quiet to solve the cases and she gave him that, not wanting to provoke him. That said, she couldn't help but feel a bit hurt that he didn't want her included in his thought processes, she was sure she could be of some use. After all, she was a doctor as well.

Foreman's voice brought her back from her little contemplation, "Well, you can't blame a guy for trying to make a few extra bucks."

There was a hint of an apology in his statement and she smiled in return.

"So… this is the real thing?" he asked her seriously, but that didn't last for long. He couldn't help but add, "You looove House," with a goofy expression on his face.

Cameron was about to deliver her standard, _"No, I don't have any feelings for House," _when she realised that he almost caught her. Judging by his smirk, it was indeed a trap. She quickly composed herself, opening her mouth to answer him, when the machine beeped.

The test was positive. She sighed with relief before running off to find House.

* * *

Patient was successfully diagnosed, yet House and the team were forced to stick around to monitor his condition till the end of the shift. Cuddy's orders, something about him being wrong several times before. She should really learn to let bygones be bygones.

Realising that he was hungry, House made his way to the nearest wending machine. It's been a while since he had a decent meal.

Grabbing the chocolate bar, he made his way back to the office, when he noticed Cameron from the balcony. Since two doctors were more than enough to supervise the patient, she decided to do her clinic hours rather than sit around doing nothing. Personally, he thought that she was crazy but who was he to judge.

He stopped, leaning over the rail. She stood at the counter, writing notes in a patient file, her left hand clutching her stomach. Upon completing the file she looked at the time and sighed before taking another file. He knew her well enough by now to know that she was hungry. He looked remorsefully at the chocolate bar he still held in his hand.

A sea of heads turned around at his loud whistle, including Cameron's. As her eyes located him, he threw the bar in her direction. To his surprise she caught it and he could see a flash of a smile before he turned around to get himself a new one.

* * *

Later that day, House was splayed in the bed, waiting for Cameron to join him. It wasn't long before he heard the click of the light switch in the bathroom and shortly after she appeared in the doorway. House almost choked when he saw her.

She was wearing a semi- translucent pink negligee that stopped just above her mid-thigh. He lifted himself on his forearms to get a better look.

"Whoa… What's the occasion?"

"I forgot to wash my pj's after I moved in and we've been so busy these last few days that I didn't have the time. This was the only thing left."

Judging by the look on House's face, he didn't mind that one bit.

Cameron quickly climbed into the bed as she was feeling rather uncomfortable. The negligee was a birthday gift from a friend, who thought she should go out and live a little. She only had it on once to see if it fit and from that moment on, it lay in the back of her closet. She didn't even know why she brought it with her.

After a while, Cameron cautiously looked at House to find him staring intently at the ceiling. Planning her next move, she suddenly felt completely awake, all traces of exhaustion gone. Rolling over, she covered half of his body with hers. Her heart was beating fast as she laid her head on his chest and threw her hand across his waist.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly.

She raised her head when he didn't answer.

Finally tearing his eyes from the ceiling, House murmured, "Nothing."

Feeling his erection against her thigh, she smiled seductively. "This doesn't feel like nothing."

* * *

**A/N: **_I hate pink and you probably hate me right now. That's ok. _


	24. Step up

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Oh, so that's what gets you guys all fired up. Tsk, tsk. I stopped where I did in the last chapter because I was not sure how to proceed. They say the customer is always right, so I give you smut. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 24 – Step up**

_Days 6-8 –Thursday, Friday, Saturday_

"_What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly. _

_She raised her head when he didn't answer. _

_Finally tearing his eyes from the ceiling, House murmured, "Nothing."_

_Feeling his erection against her thigh, she smiled seductively. "This doesn't feel like nothing."_

House kept his eyes on hers, his expression blank. It felt almost as if he was challenging her, waiting patiently for her next move. Perhaps it was the sexy piece of lingerie that gave her the courage to take up his challenge.

Her lips descended upon his throat, which she started kissing sensuously. She trailed her kisses down his neck, his stubble scratching against the sensitive skin of her lips. The tangible proof that she was in bed with a _man_ instantly made her body come alive. Her tongue joined her lips in tasting him, her hand sliding under his T-shirt to rest on the warm skin of his stomach.

She felt him tip his head further backwards to give her better access. His left hand wound around her back to pull her closer to him, which encouraged her to continue with her efforts.

Finally, her lips found his and before she knew what happened, he swiftly rolled them over. His lips began a passionate assault on hers, their tongues joining in almost instantly.

Her arms clung to him as he trailed his hands down the silky material of her night wear, soon his lips followed. The material was so thin that it almost felt as if his mouth made direct contact with her skin. Their lips met once again as his hand slipped under the fabric. In response, Cameron's hands moved higher on his back, trying to pull him closer.

She gasped into his mouth as his fingers touched the matching pink material of her panties. An involuntary moan escaped her lips when he started stroking her through the fabric. She tugged at his T-shirt which was shortly discarded with his help.

This was nothing like the first time. There were no awkward moments and shy touches. Their bodies were on fire, burning with the need for each other. If nothing else, there was one thing they could always rely on and that was the insane attraction they shared.

House quickly rid her of the panties, barely taking a moment to put on a condom before pushing inside her. They both moaned at the sensation, their bodies already aroused to the limit.

House started trusting inside her without preamble, setting a fast pace. They were both breathing deeply, gazing into each other's passion filled eyes. Occasionally, their lips would meet in a desperate kiss. They rapidly began approaching their climaxes when Cameron began meeting each of his thrusts.

It was increasingly more difficult for them to keep their eyes open because of the intense waves of pleasure. A few thrusts later, Cameron pulled him closer using all of her strength and moaned his name as she came. Her orgasm set of his and he groaned loudly as pleasure shook his body.

The aftershocks fading away, he collapsed on her, gasping for air. It was several long minutes before he calmed down enough to make the trip to the bathroom.

They didn't speak a word when he came back, nor touch, yet Cameron couldn't help but feel more comfortable than the previous time. Even though the silence was less than companionable, the usual tension was gone. She couldn't help but think that just maybe things were getting better.

* * *

Friday and Saturday were yet again spent working on a difficult case. If Cameron didn't know any better, she'd think that Cuddy was punishing them for something.

It was all work, work, work. The only benefit was that none of the guys had the time or the energy to interrogate her further on her sudden marriage. She was sure that there was more to come from Foreman, as for Chase, he seemed oddly distant since he found out the news. He probably just didn't want to get in House's way. She smiled tiredly at the thought.

Speaking of House, more than a week passed since they got married and she was not at all happy about the current state of their relationship. She needed to step up the game, otherwise the seven months will be up all too soon and she will lose. If only it wasn't for the sudden mountainous influx of cases.

* * *

"This is stupid," House muttered.

"It's necessary," Cameron countered.

"You don't trust me," he protested dejectedly.

"I do," Cameron quickly reassured him, "This has nothing to do with trust, it's just… getting a clean bill of health."

"Right."

"It's an important step in every relationship. Besides…"

She leaned closer to whisper in his ear, "We can get rid of the condoms once we get the results."

House raised his eyebrows.

"I'm on the pill now."

He quickly suppressed a smirk. She was pretty sure of herself, he had to give her that. For the pills to take effect, she had to start taking them a while ago, perhaps even before the ceremony. She might have looked all indecisive and unsure back than, but she knew exactly what she wanted and she wasn't afraid to go through with it.

"Unless you have a latex fetish," she added with a playful smile.

House shot her a look before averting his eyes. It was a while before he spoke again.

"I still think it's stupid."

Even though he was impressed by her schemes, he wasn't just about the let her win without a fight.

* * *

**A/N: **_This weekend I've been doing some delicious if time-consuming and tiring research. Well not as much research as refreshing my memory. You'll probably see in the next chapter what it's all about. Let me just tell you that it's going to be fun and I'm already looking forward to write the chapter. _:)


	25. Muffins

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_A nice and fluffy chapter._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 25 – Muffins**

_Day 9-Sunday_

A shrill sound of an alarm clock woke House up from a peaceful slumber on a Saturday morning. It was his day off. Needless to say, he did not appreciate the interference. He groaned loudly, covering his ears with his hands.

"For the love of god, woman. Would you shut that thing up?"

Cameron hastened with apologising, "I'm sorry. I forgot to turn it off yesterday."

She struggled to reach the alarm clock, still dozy from sleep.

"Jeez," House muttered, before she finally managed to turn off the alarm.

"Sorry," she tried once again, sheepishly.

With the amount of work they were given lately, exhaustion took its toll on her body. She set up the alarm just in case. Of course, she woke up before it went off yesterday. That's the law of the nature. You set up the alarm, you'll wake just in time; you don't set it, you're bound to oversleep. And of course, if you forget to turn it off, well… Luckily, both were so tired, that sleep came easily even though it didn't last long.

A couple of hours later, House's alarm went off, once again waking both of them. Cameron turned on her side and observed him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, amusement clearly predominated. House hit the alarm clock none too gently and upon noticing Cameron's expression, muttered, "Not a word."

She smiled. "I didn't say anything."

"You better not."

Noticing that she made herself comfortable again, he asked her, slightly surprised, "You're not going to get up?"

It was around 9 am and ever since she shared his bed, he never knew her to sleep this long.

"Too tired. I think I'll just sleep in today."

"Good idea," House murmured as he made himself comfortable as well.

It was quarter to noon before Cameron stirred again, waking up House in the process.

It was a wonder what a good night's rest could do. Not only that their energy was at least partially replenished, but they were also quite in a good mood. They agreed to spend the day doing nothing. Cameron was not exactly sure what that would entail, but at least for a day she wanted to erase the idea of any form of work from her mind.

Once they both changed their attire, they found themselves in the kitchen, attracted by the empty feeling in their stomachs.

Cameron was rummaging through the refrigerator when she suddenly spoke, "I have an idea."

She turned around to look at him.

"Yes?" House prompted her.

"Let's make muffins. I don't feel like cooking or going out to eat and we've been practically living off take outs this week."

House raised his eyebrows. "You want to eat muffins for lunch?"

Cameron grinned. "And dinner."

She found the confused expression on his face terribly amusing.

"I did that sometimes in college. Me and my roommate would go on a baking spree and then we'd live off them for a few days. It's actually been ages since I did that," she said with a thoughtful expression.

Apparently House still wasn't convinced as he looked at her as if she were crazy.

"Trust me, you'll love them."

Finally, House shrugged and said, "Fine. As long as I don't have to bake."

He turned around to leave the kitchen when she stopped him, "Nu huh, _you_ are going to help me." She pointed at him with her index finger to emphasise her point.

House was about to object, when she interjected, "They're with extra chocolate."

Here's the magic word! House reluctantly approached her, still not too keen about the deal.

"They better be worth it."

Cameron started to assemble the necessary ingredients. "Trust me, they are."

She finished the process by conjuring two large plain chocolates from one of the cupboards.

"Whoa, where did those come from?" exclaimed House, trying to snatch one from Cameron. She immediately removed them from his reach.

"We'll need these. Now make yourself useful and melt this chocolate together with the butter. "

He was about to take the chocolate when Cameron once again hid them behind her back.

"Don't even try to eat it. I'll be keeping an eye on you," she warned him.

House gave her one of his 'I can't believe you don't trust me' looks, which made her smile. Finally, she relented the chocolate and got to work herself.

While she mixed the flour, eggs and all the other ingredients, House completed his task.

She poured the chocolaty substance into her mix.

"Now take the other chocolate and cut it into small bits," she ordered him.

Noticing his mischievous smirk she added, "Don't even think about it, we need the whole chocolate. Besides, you'll regret it later, because it tastes much better in the muffins."

"But I'm hungry," pouted House.

Cameron was unrelenting, "Eat a piece of bread."

House shot her a glare before starting his new task.

Cameron couldn't quite wrap her mind around the whole turn of events. Here she was, on a Sunday afternoon, making muffins with House and she was enjoying herself. The thought that she was in fact happy screamed at her over the buzz of the blender.

She glanced at House who was struggling with the chocolate. Her roommate and she always fought over who will cut the chocolate as the job was anything but easy on the hands, not to mention messy.

Cameron turned off the blender and leaned against the counter. All that was left to do was to mix in the chocolate chips. A couple of minutes later, House finished his gruelling task with an annoyed expression on his face.

Feeling a pang of guilt, Cameron apologised, "Sorry, but someone had to do it."

"And that someone had to be me."

She shrugged. "You don't know the recipe."

House took a few steps closer and observed her with interest as she mixed in the last ingredient. The dough did look rather appealing.

Cameron sensed him shift directly behind her a moment before his lips descended upon her neck. He moved her hair out of the way before his lips continued to explore her skin. Now completely distracted from the muffin- making process, Cameron turned around to face him. Her hands came around his neck as she awaited his next move. A moment later he touched his lips to hers.

Caught in the situation, she was taken aback when he abruptly stopped the kiss and took a step back. However, all was explained when he licked his chocolate covered fingers. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head while he smacked his lips.

Expertly contemplating on the taste, he finally came to a decision. "This is not all that good," he complained.

"It will be when it's baked. You're not supposed to eat it raw," she paused before getting an idea, "Why don't you go rent us some movies. This will take a while to bake."

"Why do I have to do all the hard work?" he complained.

"Because I don't trust you not to burn the muffins," came her immediate reply.

House rubbed his chin in a contemplative manner. "That's actually a very good reason," he admitted.

Placing the first batch into the oven, she followed him into the living room just as he was about to leave.

"I'd prefer something light. No blood or drama," she instructed him.

* * *

About half an hour later, she could hear the front door open and the sound of keys being dropped on the coffee table. Soon, House poked his head into the kitchen, immediately noticing the rows of very delicious looking muffins. He was about to take one when Cameron slapped his hand.

"They're still too hot," she responded to his evil stare.

That's when something else caught his attention.

"Are those chocolate shakes?" he asked hopefully.

"They sure are."

A suspicious look crossed his face. "That's a lot of chocolate. Is it that time of the month?"

"I happen to like chocolate, if you must know. And there's nothing wrong with overindulging every now and then, is there?"

"Nope," he readily agreed.

"So, what did you bring us?" she inquired, nodding towards the DVD's in his hand.

He handed them over to her and she read out loud the titles, "_Kung Fu Panda_, _Ice Age 3 _and _Madagascar_?"

It was obvious that this was not what she had in mind when she said something light.

"What?" House defended, "You didn't think I'd bring a chick flick, did you?"

That was one of her ideas, but she supposed that knowing House, that was unrealistic to expect. On second thought, she didn't mind the cartoons at all. They fit nicely into their 'don't think- overindulge' theme.

Half an hour later, the muffins were done and they relocated into the living room with a liberal amount of said pastry, milkshakes and the DVD's. The first movie of choice was _Madagascar_.

As soon as they got settled on the couch, House stuck half of a muffin in his mouth. He practically swallowed it without chewing, the second half receiving the same treatment. Cameron thought better than to comment. Besides, she was starving as well. A keen observer would notice that the amount of space between them while sharing the couch, increasingly lessened during the week.

Half of the first movie over, there was a knock on the door which was immediately followed by a jiggling of keys and opening of the door. Wilson came in, surprise written all over his face as his eyes travelled from the couple to muffins to TV and back to the couple.

"I didn't give you that key so you can just barge in whenever you feel like it," House remarked.

"I knocked," Wilson feebly defended.

House rolled his eyes, "And all the good that did. What if we were in the middle of some more interesting activities?"

Wilson stuttered, not quite sure how to respond to that. Of course, House enjoyed the situation immensely.

"I don't think Allison would appreciate that," he said, looking at Cameron and patting her comfortingly on her thigh.

Choosing to save the poor guy, Cameron offered Wilson a muffin.

He gratefully took it and plopped down on the couch next to her.

"Please, make yourself at home," House said sarcastically.

"Don't mind if I do." He immediately took off his shoes and placed his feet on the coffee table. Once he settled himself, he grabbed another muffin from the tray and begun munching on it.

Cameron gave House a confused look.

He whispered to her rather loudly, "He's just feeling lonely. Since his wife left him and all. He probably though he could share in our 'love'."

Cameron laughed and instinctively moved closer to him when he placed his arm around her shoulders. Realising what happened, she froze, though only for a moment. It felt rather cosy, so she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his thigh. He didn't seem to mind or perhaps it was just a farce intended to rouse Wilson, either way, she didn't care.

She was settled comfortably with a bunch of muffins within her reach and a fun movie on TV. It was as good as it gets.

* * *

**A/N: **_This would be a perfect day for me. Sleeping till noon is one of life's greatest pleasures. And just imagine soft, tasty chocolate muffins with bits of melted chocolate. I can tell you that they are really yummy. _:)_ As for the movies, you're never too old to watch cartoons. They're just about the only thing I go watch in cinema (besides bad horror movies). And yes, I know the movies I mentioned were not out yet at the time the story takes place, I thought you could cut my some slack on this one. _

_Mmm, I've got an exam on Monday, which means I'll be forced to look inside some books. I've never been one to study much so it may not cause much of a delay. We'll see. _


	26. The green eyed monster

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_School…You see, the thing about last minute studying is that you actually have to study then. There is no more 'I'll do it tomorrow' possible. Consequently, there's not much time left for other things. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 26 – The green-eyed monster**

_Day 10-Monday_

Cameron entered the office slightly later than usually on Monday. It was this and the fact that she had a content smile on her face that caught Foreman's attention.

"Good morning," she cheerfully greeted the boys.

"You seem in a good mood. Good weekend?" Foreman inquired.

"You could say that," she answered with a smile while taking something out of her bag.

It was a plastic container full of muffins. There were still some left from the Sunday's feast and she thought they would be a nice treat for her co-workers.

She opened the container and said, "They're home-made."

Foreman took one while Chase looked at them as if they were poisoned.

"Take one. They're really good," Cameron encouraged him.

"No, thanks," he muttered in reply.

"Suit yourself." Chase's cold reply did nothing to lessen Cameron's good mood. Especially since Foreman expressed his appreciation of them.

She happily trotted off to the coffee machine, yesterday's events still fresh on her mind. She had to admit that she really enjoyed herself, especially after Wilson got over his blues. Watching the interplay of House and Wilson's friendship was almost as fun as the movies.

* * *

Cameron looked up from answering House's mail as Cuddy entered the office. Judging by the look on her face, there will be trouble.

"Where's House?" Cuddy demanded sternly.

"It's only 10 am, he probably just woke up," Cameron answered in a friendly manner.

"He should have been here an hour ago."

"House never was one to come on time…"

Cuddy huffed angrily. "Since you live with him now, I thought you would be able to teach him some order," she said indignantly.

Cameron wasn't sure what to make of this side of Cuddy or how to answer her remark.

"House is House…No one can make him do what he doesn't want to," she tried pleasantly if slightly apologetically.

"Well. Tell him that he has a case and that he better get here ASAP," Cuddy ordered brusquely and left the office without another word.

Cameron was shell-shocked. She was used to Cuddy quarrelling either with or about House but this felt personal.

* * *

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Wayne?"

House closed the file and looked at a very impressive shiner, decorating the patient's left eye.

"Are you mocking me?" asked the young gentleman with an impeccable style of clothing as well as a very orderly hairdo.

"I wouldn't do that," House feigned hurt. "So tell me what happened," he said while indicating the patient's black eye, "You entered the wrong saloon?"

"My personal affairs are none of your business," the young man curtly answered.

"Jeez, someone got up on the wrong side of the horse."

Mr. Wayne's eyes glared with anger and House thought he better get rid of the guy before he manages to get sued again.

"Any headaches, dizziness, nausea?" asked House while flashing a light into the patients eye.

Receiving a negative reply to all of the above, he inquired further, "Any other symptoms worth mentioning? Disorientation, difficulty focusing…"

Once again, the answer was no.

"Well, you seem to be fine. No concussion or broken bones…"

"I know that," the patient interrupted him.

"Then why are you here, wasting my time?" demanded House, fed up with the pretty boy.

Mr. Wayne's lips formed a thin line before he spoke again, "I suggest you change your attitude, doctor."

House was amused by the trace of a threat in the guy's voice. "Or what? You gonna fill me with lead?"

He really was trying to keep his cool but the guy was just begging for it.

"Fine," House relented, "How can I help you then?"

Pleased with the change of tone, Mr. Wayne explained, "I thought you could give me something to speed up the process of healing. I won't be a favourite among the ladies, looking like this."

House gave the patient one of his 'you've got to be kidding me' looks.

"Riiight. Tell you what… Since you're such a nice guy and all, I'll give you a friendly advice. The bruise gives you a dangerous look and 'the ladies', love that," he told him conspiratorially.

"Yeah, the ones you pick up at a bar," said the guy dismissively, giving House a once over.

"But I'm sure you know all about that, you look like a regular."

House was getting quite annoyed with the guy's haughty attitude. He wriggled his left hand in front of the patient's face and said, "Not anymore. I'm spoken for."

Mr. Wayne huffed derisively. "You got her shipped over from Asia or is she some blond bimbo that's in for the money?"

Well, at least the mysterious bruise was explained. House took his pager out of the pocket while the patient continued, "Or perhaps she's an old hag who couldn't do any better. I'm curious, which one is it?"

For some reason the guy reminded House of Chase, though a more gutsy version of the Australian pretty boy and sans the accent.

Ignoring the guy's insults, he simply said, "You're getting a consult. It shouldn't take long."

Oh, what he wouldn't give to wipe that smug expression of the patient's face. It wouldn't take long, now. Sure enough, there was a knock on the door before Cameron entered.

House immediately stood up and walked towards her.

"Ah here you are, darling."

He wrapped his arm around a very surprised Cameron's waste.

"Allison, this is Mr. Wayne, Mr. Wayne, this is my wife," he made the introductions.

It was difficult to say who was more stunned, the patient or Cameron. Not that it stopped her from playing along. Just another one of House's games, she thought. She smiled sweetly at the guy and greeted him, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne."

It appeared that Mr. Wayne temporarily lost the ability to speak. He was barely able to give her a curt nod.

His arm still around Cameron, House turned to her and explained, "Mr. Wayne believes that the black eye doesn't compliment his facial structure. He wanted a woman's perspective, so what do you say?"

The patient tried to interject but couldn't get any coherent words out.

Cameron suspected that there was some deeper issue between the patient and House (wasn't there always) yet she decided that she will try to help as best as she could.

"I wouldn't worry too much if I were you, Mr. Wayne. The bruise will fade away in a few weeks but if it really bothers you, you could try a concealer."

The guy's chic appearance made her believe he wasn't above using make up.

"There you have it," House said happily, "Isn't she great or what?"

He yanked Cameron a bit closer still, gave her a quick kiss on the lips, grabbed the file and led her out of the room.

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm not all that happy about this chapter for several reasons, but it will have to do. The annoying clinic patient makes things slightly better but you are free to criticise it. The next one is already partially written and it might be up by Sunday. I have a few days off next week but guess what… I have to prepare another presentation, it's the 5__th__ one this year! At least I'm starting to get over my fear of public speaking. *sigh* _


	27. The green eyed monster sweeps its tail

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Today's lesson: The phrase green-eyed monster was coined by William Shakespeare as well as many other popular phrases. Othello is a tragedy where the main protagonist (Othello) falls pray to manipulation because of his jealousy. He trusts his enemy pretending to be his friend more than his wife (Desdemona) and ends up killing her as a punishment for her infidelity. Too late he discovers that all was just a ploy and he commits suicide. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 27 – The green-eyed monster sweeps its tail **

_Week 2_

_O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;  
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on_

_--Shakespeare: Othello--_

As soon as House and Cameron entered the hospital, they were met by an angry Cuddy. They didn't fail to notice that it was becoming quite a routine these days.

"We're being sued for unprofessional conduct. Just what were you two thinking making out in front of a patient?"

She was very vocal in showing her displeasure which attracted several glances. While Cameron looked appropriately embarrassed, House didn't seem to be fazed at all.

"You mean the pretty boy? _Mr. Wayne_?" he inquired, using air quotes.

Instead of answering, Cuddy kept her hard gaze on House.

"I'll take that as a yes. The guy was an idiot. If anyone, than I should sue him for insulting me."

Cuddy huffed, "Right, as if that were possible."

"What are you so upset about anyway. I'm sure your lap dogs will take care of this," he dismissed her.

"Typical. You constantly get into trouble and then you expect me to solve the situation. It's not my job to clean up after you."

"And yet you make it your job." House narrowed his eyes at her. "I think you're jealous," he said with a smirk.

Before she could object, he continued, "Don't worry Cuddles, I promise that your puppies will still get due attention."

He blatantly looked at her breasts to prove his point and then urged Cameron to follow him as he started walking away.

Cameron remained where she was.

"Dr. Cuddy… About the lawsuit… it won't happen again," she said apologetically, even though inside, anger was slowly coming to a boil. Anger at House, Cuddy and herself.

"It better not or I'll be forced to transfer you." Cuddy swiftly turned around and walked away.

Things were starting to get out of hand.

* * *

Wilson walked, or rather stormed into House's office. The expression on his face made it clear that he was very unhappy about something.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he demanded of House.

House lifted his head from his PSP. "Killing the orcs? As soon as I get past them, the elven princess will grant me the Sword of Eternity."

Wilson snatched the console from House's hands, ignoring his protests.

"What's been going on between you and Cuddy?"

House kept looking at him with a blank stare, which only infuriated Wilson further.

"Oh don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. You've been flirting with her like mad these past few days."

"I always flirt with her."

"You're married now, House! You can't just make eyes at other women and in front of your wife, too!" Wilson shouted.

House smirked. "You mean I should do it behind her back like you always do?"

Wilson sighed in frustration. "Don't make this about me. And don't try to convince me that the relationship between you and Cuddy is the same. She…"

He paused and took several long breaths, which apparently calmed him down as he continued in a much softer tone, "I think she has feelings for you. As soon as she found out that you're married, she started acting like crazy and I know you've noticed it. Not only that, you even encourage her!"

So much for remaining calm.

"Do you want to be with her?" Wilson asked.

House kept quiet as Wilson studied him. The question was only made in jest, to make House see reason, yet now…

"You do…" Wilson uttered incredulously.

House shrugged. "She's hot when she's jealous."

Wilson's anger was overcome by bewilderment. Not that he should be surprised as his friend did have a knack of getting into all sorts of messes.

"House… you can't do this to Cameron…" he practically pleaded with him.

House stood up from his chair. When he spoke, his voice carried a hint of hurt, "What do you think I'm going to do? Screw Cuddy behind her back?"

The look on Wilson's face was self-explanatory.

"I don't cheat," he answered seriously.

Wilson smiled incredulously, not believing a word he said. "What about Stacy?" he reminded him.

"She was the married one, not me."

"So you think it's ok to be with someone who is cheating as long as you're not the one doing the cheating?" Wilson did not approve of that, that much was clear.

"Spare me a lecture on moral and ethics, you're the last one who should be preaching me on the subject."

Wilson threw his hands in the air. "Fine." House was right, he certainly was no angel. He knew that.

"But when the marriage is over…" Wilson asked.

House grabbed the PSP from Wilson's hand and threw it into his backpack. His last words before he left the office were, "When it's over, I'll be a free man again."

* * *

House wasn't an idiot. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what he was doing _to Cameron_. But it was her own fault. She knew what she signed up for and he had absolutely no intention of making things easier for her. He had no intention to change for her and to be fair, she never insisted on that.

The best part was that she didn't even say a word to him about his shenanigans with Cuddy. Not that she had to, he knew they affected her. She distanced herself from him once again. Their professional relationship didn't change, she would never let that happen, but at home, there was a huge rift between them. The phrase living apart together came to his mind, only that with them, it was the exact opposite: living together apart. They spent less time together, hell, they barely even talked unless they had to. Before, she was making an effort to move things along, but now she just let him be. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start making an effort now. Consequently, things were at a standstill. And he liked that. He loved the quiet moments without intimate conversations or forced displays of affection. All of that… it wasn't him. _This_ was him; the distance, silence, solitude; that's how his life has always been and he was used to it. He vowed to enjoy it as long as it lasts. Who knows, perhaps she'll give up and things can go back to the way they're supposed to be.

* * *

**A/N: **_Look, a flying squirrel! *runs away* _


	28. The more loving one

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_These are the first two stanzas of a poem I like very much. True love means taking upon yourself all the emotions even though they will only bring you pain. It means willingly letting go, when that's all that's left. Jealousy will only bring hatred and bitterness in return, while love will bring understanding and compassion. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 28 – The more loving one or The fall of the green-eyed monster**_  
(End of week two)_

_Looking up at the stars, I know quite well__  
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,  
__But on earth indifference is the least__  
We have to dread from man or beast._

_How should we like it were stars to burn__  
With a passion for us we could not return?  
__If equal affection cannot be,__  
Let the more loving one be me._

_--W.H. Auden: The More Loving One-- _

House had no idea how to interact with crying women. The need to do something, anything, made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He never was one to use sweet words or caresses, even though he knew sometimes they were exactly what was needed. That is why he always avoided crying women but how can you ignore your own wife?

He knew this was bound to happen eventually but that did not lessen his trepidation as he was walking towards the locker room. Entering the room, he immediately noticed Cameron perched on the bench. Her face was resting in her hands and she didn't even bother to look up. He took a deep breath and walked towards the bench, taking a seat next to her.

"Tissue?" he offered. He suspected that the big guns were needed in this case, that's why he came armed with a box of Kleenex.

Cameron briefly looked at him and pulled a single tissue out of the box. For a short moment, House could clearly see her tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. This was not what he wanted.

No matter what people thought of him, crying women did have an effect on him. Especially this crying woman. He didn't know whether it was because she was so small and fragile or because he felt that she already shed too many tears in her life. Either way, to see her like this affected him more than he was willing to admit. He knew this was not the first time that he was the cause of her pain and no matter what, he never hurt her intentionally. It was just who he was. You could not get close to him without feeling the pain as it was intrinsically woven into the fabric of his very being. Yet, to know that he was to blame still made his heart constrict painfully.

"Want to talk about it?"

He was trying, she could see that. There were so few times when Greg House would willingly reach out to someone that she simply had to forgive him. In all honesty, there was nothing to forgive. This whole bet thing was nonsense. She was crazy to have ever suggested it and completely insane to have gone through with it. Perhaps this was meant to be her wake up call before things got too out of hand if it was not too late already.

"Cuddy…" she tried and stopped while House waited patiently.

She sniffled a little and then continued, "You know what she's been like lately and you… You've been…" She struggled to find the right words.

"_Asshole_, _jerk,_ _bastard_…" his mind supplied.

"Cuddy wants to be with you and the way you were acting lately… I think you want to be with her too…"

"I don't…"

"Please…" She looked up at him with a pleading expression on her face and not a trace of reproach. "Don't lie to me."

There was something about her demeanour that made him keep quiet and look down at his hands.

"This bet was childish. I don't know what I was thinking… I think we should break it off now."

House looked at her in surprise.

"I don't want to stand between you and Cuddy. It would be stupid to keep up this charade any longer if she's what you want…And if you're worried about the bet, don't be… We can make it a draw, no losers, no winners and we can get a divorce as soon as possible…"

There was not a hint of spite in her voice. She really did just want what she thought was best for him.

House could not comprehend how someone could be so selfless. Even that time with Stacy, she let him go just like that, even though he knew she harboured feelings for him at the time. Looking at her now made him wonder if there were still some remnants left. Not that it mattered, because she would do the right thing regardless. She was practically a saint and he gladly exploited that for his own gains. Boy, she sure knew how to make him feel guilty.

"Nice try but I'm not letting you weasel out of this so easily."

"House…I mean it."

"So do I."

Truth be told, he didn't hate living with her. Of course, it made him feel uncomfortable often enough and he felt crowded at times but he didn't hate it as much as he thought he would. At least, not enough to break off the arrangement.

"But Cuddy… I can't take this anymore…" A fresh stream of tears slid down her cheeks.

"What did she say to you?"

Cameron shook her head. "It doesn't matter but I can't deal with this every day." She pulled another tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," House ordered her and left the room.

House barged into Cuddy's office, interrupting her phone call. While she was still in the middle of apologising to the caller, House grabbed the receiver and said, "Dr. Cuddy has an emergency. She'll call you back," before ending the call.

"What do you think you're doing? That was an important benefactor," Cuddy screeched.

House ignored her and proceeded to say what he came there to say, "It's got to stop… You messing with Cameron… Allison…"

Cuddy leaned back in a defensive manner. "Making sure that my employees do their job properly is part of _my_ job."

"Oh please. Allison is one of the best doctors in this hospital and you know it damn well. If anything, she uses her personal feelings to help the patients, not to harm them. Since you found out we're married you've been hanging on every word she says and everything she does." Anger came naturally to him, the vision of Cameron's tear-stained face still fresh in his mind.

"You're the one to talk. You've been acting as if she's the least of your care," Cuddy yelled back indignantly.

That stopped him in his tracks. He knew he was part of the problem but that was about to change.

"Leave her alone, Cuddy. I won't allow you to punish her for my sins, she did nothing wrong."

The administrator kept quiet, her head slightly bowed.

Anger was replaced by an undeniable sense of remorse for what could have been and regret for what had been.

"Whatever was between us is over. I'm off the market and until that changes, you better stay away."

"Oh, and we're taking the rest of the day off," he added as an afterthought.

He gave her one last look before walking away.

When he re-entered the locker room he discovered that Cameron was exactly where he left her. He saw that her eyes were still red from crying and there was a profound sadness reflected in them, yet there were no more tears trailing down her checks. Once again he sat down next to her.

"Problem solved. She won't bother you again," he told her.

A panicked look crossed her face. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. I just talked to her," he defended. Now why did she always assume he did something horrible? Oh, probably because he usually did.

Seeing the disbelieving look on her face, he added, "Honestly."

Cameron sighed and looked at the floor. "I still think…"

House immediately interrupted her, "I don't care what you think, we're not cancelling the bet and frankly, I'm hurt that you want to get rid of me so persistently."

That earned him a small smile and the heavy mood that perched over them was immediately lifted.

"Now come on," he urged her, placing his arm around her shoulders, "I got us the rest of the day off."

* * *

**A/N: **_Now that wasn't so bad, was it? There must be dark in order to appreciate the light. _


	29. The million dollar question

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Sorry, but you know what it's like sometimes. _:\

* * *

**Chapter 29 – The million dollar question**

_(The weekend of week 3)_

Cameron ended the phone call and collapsed on the couch next to House with a distressed expression on her face, which inevitably piqued House's curiosity.

"Something the matter?" he inquired.

"My friends called. They want me to meet them in an hour," Cameron said with a sigh.

"I know how much you love to be around me but I think you'll survive on your own for a couple of hours," House quipped.

Cameron glared at him. "It's not that I don't want to go, but all of them work at the hospital and since I've been avoiding them for the last three weeks… well, I can expect a lot of questions," she explained.

House shrugged. "Tell them the truth then."

"_Typical House_," thought Cameron, "_pretending there is no problem_." If only it were that easy.

"I can't do that," she said, appalled that he would even suggest it.

She sighed again and leaned heavily against the backrest, trying to come up with a solution to her problem. Unsurprisingly, none came to her.

She looked back at House who clearly lost interest in the conversation as he was now flipping through the new medical journal. With another heavy sigh she got back on her feet, grabbed the necessities and walked out of the door.

###

As Cameron entered the bar, she was immediately greeted by her friends waving her over to their booth. If things could get any worse, it appeared to be cocktail hour and according to the sign, it will be cocktail hour the whole evening. An oxymoron if she ever saw one. But then, she was often told that she lost her sense of humour when in distress.

Accepting her fate, she waded through the masses and joined her friends with a fake smile.

"Well, look at you. You get married and you forget all about your dearest friends. Tut tut," reprimanded her Vanessa.

Vanessa was the youngest of them all and definitely the most outgoing, the two probably connected. As she currently worked in the lab, gathering experience to become a medical researcher, she often shared late night conversations with Cameron. Even though Vanessa was amused by how House treated his subordinates, she still offered Cameron to do the tests instead of her each and every time they ran into each other. Of course, Cameron refused, claiming that House would somehow know the difference. He probably would.

"I didn't forget about you guys, I was just so busy these past few weeks," Cameron quickly defended. Whichever way you looked at it, it was the truth.

"So busy you couldn't even return our calls? asked Barbara. Barbara was a doctor who worked in the Oncology department, which probably contributed to her being very down-to-earth. In turn, that helped her rebuke Wilson's advances. Apparently he was of the opinion that they could help each other go through their recent divorces. Barbara knew perfectly well what that was a code for.

Cameron murmured an apology.

"That's ok," said Lucy understandingly. Since she was a nurse in paediatrics she often subconsciously slipped into the role of a consoling parent. Lucy was the most like Cameron, except when it came to their tastes in men. She met House on several occasions and was less than impressed by his behaviour, which she made perfectly clear to Cameron.

"It's not ok," objected Vanessa, "but I'll forgive you if you tell us all the details and when I say _all _I mean _all_." She fixed her eyes straight on Cameron.

_As soon as they entered the apartment, House whisked her to the bedroom, claiming that he deserved a reward for being a good boy. They tumbled on the bed, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. She hated to admit it, but she really missed this. The weight of his body pressing down on hers, the feel of his scruff against her soft skin, his tongue sliding against hers…_

Cameron woke up from her reverie, hoping that none of her friends noticed her little excursion.

"Well, about 2 weeks ago, I got married to House…"

"We already know that," stated Barbara.

Lucy immediately came to her defence, "Let her finish." She turned towards Cameron, "Go on, Allison."

"That's about all there is to it." Cameron had no idea what else to say.

"You've got to be kidding me," Vanessa began her rant, "You don't _just_ get married all of a sudden. I thought we were friends and you didn't even tell us that you two were dating."

"Vanessa is right, Allison," commented Lucy, "You always told us how things were between you and Doctor House. Why not now?"

Cameron sighed. "Everything happened so fast that I couldn't quite believe it and before I knew it, we were married." That wasn't mostly true.

She smiled apologetically at her friends. "I know I should have told you about it sooner but I was afraid that you'd think I'm crazy."

"Now why would we think that after you spent the last few months claiming that you're over him?" asked Vanessa with a faux confused expression.

Cameron smiled sheepishly. "It seems that wasn't entirely true."

"Do you love him?" inquired Barbara who had kept quiet the past few minutes, just taking everything in.

That question was bound to come and if she wasn't prepared to answer it affirmatively, she would probably wonder why the answer came so easy to her.

_She never paid special attention to sex in previous relationships, but now that she was with House, she got the feeling that she was slowly beginning to crave it. It must have been lust. House was an attractive man after all and if it was only lust then it would die out eventually. Hopefully about the time when their marriage ends. Yet, as he quickly pulled the clothes off her and kissed the newly exposed skin, she found that a little hard to believe. _

"Does _he_ love you?" asked Lucy.

After she spent so much time mourning the fact that House doesn't return her feelings, it will probably be difficult to convince her friends otherwise now.

"He said he does." That was a flat out lie but there was no way around it.

Clearly, the spark of suspicion was ignited in her friends' faces. Luckily, Vanessa decided to stir the conversation into more fun waters.

She leaned across the table and whispered her question, "So, tell me, how is he in bed? You did sleep together, right?"

_He didn't allow her control this time. She was completely naked while he only lost his T-shirt. His mouth and hands were all over her body, for the first time taking the time to thoroughly explore it and she loved the feeling. It was all about her this time and she felt that this was his way of saying sorry. Of course he would apologise to her with sex, she thought and then she didn't think anymore as his mouth travelled bellow her bellybutton, lower and lower still. Her hand was entangled in his hair and there was something utterly erotic, observing him between her parted thighs, his jeans still on. _

She blushed and Vanessa smirked. "I'll take that as a yes, so tell us."

"Vanessa…" Lucy admonished her, although it was obvious that it was only a half-hearted attempt.

_Feeling him inside her without a condom was an entirely different sensation. The absence of rubber didn't change all that much on the physical level, however the lack of that barrier made the whole act incredibly more intimate. She knew he was already close. No doubt because of the lack of contact during the week combined with the way she moaned and writhed when he tasted her. She knew that she was close as well, still feeling the daze of her previous orgasm. She was right. Another benefit of sex without a condom was that she really felt his release. _

Cameron covered her face with her hands and mumbled, "He's good."

"Good as in you wouldn't mind doing it again or good as in he'd make a fine male prostitute?" Vanessa inquired.

Still hiding from the view of her friends, Allison answered after a short pause, "Probably closer to the latter."

_It was funny that if someone asked her what she enjoyed the most about their latest sex session, she wouldn't answer House's sexual prowess in bed, although it was formidable, nor the benefits of discarding the condoms, although she did thoroughly enjoy them. Though, what she had in mind was closely connected to that. What she liked best was that he stayed at her side afterwards. Even though they didn't touch, just knowing that he was only a couple of inches away made her feel incredible. Besides, there was still enough time left to make him cuddle. _

"What I really want to know," started Barbara, "is how you can stand to spend so much time around that jerk."

"True," Vanessa agreed, "He's hot but I'd never marry him."

That was the million dollar question. Between working together and living together, they were practically together 24/7, which would be enough to drive most people crazy. She has always been extremely patient but there was a thin line between being patient and being a glutton for punishment. Had she crossed it already or was there perhaps something more to it?

* * *

**A/N:**_ Some of you requested smut. This sort of, kind of, in a way counts as smut, doesn't it? *looks hopeful* _

_About Cameron's girlfriends… I really don't like how most people make them act as immature highschoolers in their fics but I'm afraid I'm guilty of the same sin this time and I hate myself for it. The problem is that Cameron does not have a canon friend. Some people make Cuddy fill that role but I simply cannot see that happen in any possible reality, even before they started openly disliking each other, in my fic or the show. And Wilson is primarily House's friend so I was forced to resort to this unfortunate situation._

_Once again, sorry for the wait but desperate times call for desperate measures. Updates should be regular once again (2 per week), at least till the end of the month. The next one will therefore be up by the end of this week. _


	30. Wild horses couldn't drag me away

**Disclaimer: **_Nope. _

**A/N: **_The songs at the beginning and end of the chapter are a mix of the Stones' __I got the blues__ and __Wild horses__ from the album Sticky fingers. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 30 – Wild horses couldn't drag me away**_  
(Mid week 3)_

_As I sit by the fire  
Of your warm desire  
I've got the blues for you, yeah_

_You know I can't let you slide through my hands  
Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
Wild, wild horses, couldn't drag me away_

_-- The Rolling Stones: I got the blues & Wild horses--_

Cameron was running her fingers over House's record collection while reminiscing over the past few days. It was funny how everything could return to (almost) normal that fast.

Cuddy was back to her old self. Their relationship was still a bit strained, but truth be told, there was always a certain distance between them. House stayed true to his word. He was much more reserved when it came to his comments about Cuddy. They were still there, he was House after all, but they were much scarcer and less inappropriate than usually. Chase left her alone. It seemed that he accepted the situation and was now sulking over his misfortune. And Foreman... she often found him smirking, especially when she was near House. It seemed he still wasn't taking the whole thing seriously, but she didn't care about that as long as he didn't interrogate her.

Yes, people accepted their marriage. Even the nurses didn't gawk at them as fish in an aquarium anymore. But then, it was already more than 3 weeks since their wedding day. Their journey so far was as unpredictable as British weather with an appropriate amount of wet spells. As challenging as it was, they have made it through and were currently enjoying the sunshine.

Her hand stopped on an album with a picture of a guy's jeans-clad crotch and a working zipper as its cover. The Rolling Stone's _Sticky Fingers_. She pulled the album out to take a better look at the design and jumped a little when House suddenly appeared behind her back.

He took the album from her hands with a determined, "Mine."

Taking the record out of its cover, he blew on his old record player to disperse the dust that gathered there and carefully laid the record on the turntable. As he placed the stylus on the spinning record, the first notes of _Brown Sugar_ were heard after the initial static.

Cameron grimaced at the lyrics, which House immediately noticed.

"Wipe that frown off your face."

_Brown sugar how come you taste so good?  
Brown sugar just like a young girl should_

Knowing how much he loved The Stones, she explained guiltily, "I'm sorry, but their songs are just so… obscene."

House gave her a look that said she missed the point entirely. "It's called rock'n'roll."

"I know but…"

"Let me guess," he interrupted her as he sat down on the couch, "You prefer Beatles."

"Their lyrics are nicer and they always manage to make me smile. Besides, Ringo was so cute," she said as she joined him on the couch.

House shook his head and muttered, "Women. You _always_ choose Beatles. They're good but _no one _can beat the Stones. It's like believing that you or the other two grasshoppers could ever reach my level of brilliance. You may be cuter, but you don't have _it_."

Cameron laughed, not bothering to question what _it _was.

# # #

Wilson stopped his car in front of House's apartment. He's been meaning to have a chat with him for the past few days, but somehow he could never catch him alone. Perhaps this way was better, so he could talk to both of them at the same time. He wanted to know how things were in their relationship, if you can call it that. From the way they interacted, he deduced that they were fine, which was odd, since he never expected House to follow his advice. Was it just a calm before the storm?

He knocked on the door. There was no reply. The sounds of _Wild Horses_ were heard from inside, so he knocked once again, this time louder. Perhaps they didn't hear him. There was still no reply. When his third attempt failed as well, he took out his spare key.

If things really did turn sour between the couple, then who knows in what condition House was right now. He knew from previous experience that it was always a bad sign if House didn't answer the door. But this time, he was in for a surprise.

Having opened the door, he caught House and Cameron during a hot make-out session on the couch. Definitely not something he wished to see, ever. Overcoming the initial shock, he tried to slip out of the door unnoticed, but no such luck.

The draft from the opened door notified House of an unwanted audience. He didn't even have to look up to know who it was, and he would gladly ignore him but there was something he had to take care off. Climbing off the couch, much to the surprise of Cameron, he walked over to Wilson and grabbed the keys from his hand.

"I'll take this back," he said with a glare.

Cameron, who was by now clued in, quickly lifted herself into a sitting position, clearly embarrassed.

She wasn't the only one, as Wilson also didn't quite know what to say or do.

"I'm sorry. I was worried that something was wrong when you didn't open the door…"

"Of course you were," grumbled House as he limped back towards the couch.

"Well, you can't blame me… After what was going on last week, I assumed the worst." He shrugged apologetically.

"Which would be?" House challenged him.

"Well, I…I thought that you two broke up…"

"You can't break up if you've never been together," House ridiculed him.

Cameron couldn't stop the small pang of hurt at his words. She knew she was being silly but sometimes when he was less than his miserable caustic self, she couldn't help but get carried away and lose touch with reality. But she really shouldn't be thinking about that.

Wilson rubbed his forehead and sighed. "Right. So you two are OK?" He aimed this question at Cameron, knowing that he'll have better luck getting a truthful answer from her.

"We're fine," Cameron sighed, "We talked it over and…"

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "You had a talk?" His expression was one of surprise and amusement.

Noticing the look on Wilson's face and suspecting that he won't like what his friend was about to say next, House walked across the room and started pushing Wilson out of his apartment.

"You got what you came here for, now beat it," were House's parting words, while Wilson replied with an amused smirk.

House closed the door after him, leaning against the solid block of wood.

"All he really cares about is winning the bet. But who can blame him; divorce lawyers are expensive."

"_Wilson wasn't the only one_," thought Cameron. And she had to keep reminding herself of that, otherwise she'll stager down the road she promised herself she'll never go down again. The feeling was actually bittersweet but she wouldn't give it up for anything else in the world.

_As I stand by your flame  
I get burned once again  
Feeling low down, I'm blue_

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
Now you decided to show me the same  
No sweeping exits or offstage lines  
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind_

_In the silk sheet of time  
I will find peace of mind  
Love is a bed full of blues_

_

* * *

_**A/N: **_First of all, the Sticky fingers cover is supposed to be one of the best ever, so do take a look. It's interesting for several reasons… *cough* _

_So, what do you think? Stones or Beatles? For me it's Beatles all the way, for the reasons Cameron mentioned, but to be fair, The Stones make good music and there are several of their songs that have "pretty" lyrics, such as __I got the blues __and __Wild horses__ from this album and then we also have __Angie__ and __Streets of love__. My favourite is probably __Paint it black__, which is one of the most depressing songs you will ever hear. Oh and I should mention that I really can't stand Mick, but then, I'm also not a fan of Paul McCartney. _

_Next chapter will be mostly House/Cameron fluffiness. _


	31. In his arms she fell

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Sometimes I just love sabotaging myself. Well, I'm still within the deadline, if just barely. Title inspired by a Sting song, __Fields of Gold__. Enjoy. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 31 – In his arms (she fell)**_  
(Week 4- weekend)_

"I can't believe you persuaded me into this," said Cameron with a sigh.

"Why? You love watching TV," House answered from in front of the DVD player, his back towards her.

"I don't _lov_e it. I like it alright, every now and then," said Cameron as she sat down on the couch. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, she waited for House to join her.

In a minute, he was set next to her and all the lights were out by the time the opening credits of _The ring_ came on.

"Do you want me to hold your hand when you get scared?" he teased her as he popped open a soda can.

Cameron huffed and turned back towards the screen. Sometimes it was better to relinquish the fight and let him have his victory.

Truth be told, she didn't frequent cinemas or watch TV all that much and when she did, horror movies were not her first choice. Even though most of them were poorly made, they still somehow managed to scare her. Or perhaps that meant they _were_ well made, who knows.

She moved a bit closer to House in pretence to make the sharing of the popcorn easier.

Soon enough, she was completely immersed into the story, the darkness of the room adding heavily to the tense and gloomy atmosphere. The flickering light from the TV screen cast several ominous shadows, which were changing their shape along with the scenes. Just when the movie was in one of its more intense phases, the phone rang.

Cameron nearly jumped out of her skin, scattering some of the popcorn in the process. She warily looked over at the machine, her heart beat increasing twofold in an instant. All the ideas that crossed her mind… She knew she was being silly, but you cannot beat fear with sheer rationale. When she glanced at House, he merely raised his eyebrows, silently communicating to her that he had no intention of getting up.

Cameron took a deep breath and walked over to the telephone table. She once again looked at House, inadvertently catching a glimpse of the movie in her peripheral vision. Gathering all her courage, she lifted the receiver with trembling hands.

"Hello," she whispered barely audibly, only to be greeted by silence. She tried once again, this time in a more demanding tone, "Hello. Who's there?"

Still, there was nothing but silence on the other end. Instinctively, she looked over at House- the man who had all the answers and he didn't fail her.

She could just see him flipping his cell phone closed as the line went dead.

_Oh, that bastard!_ She stormed towards him, her voice rising, "That was _not_ funny!"

"Of course it was. You should have seen the look on your face." And to think that he had the nerve to laugh at her.

She shoved him with some strength before sitting down next to him. Her posture said it all as she fixated her eyes on the screen.

House snaked his arm around her shoulders and yanked her closer to him. "Come on, Allison. Don't be like that."

Cameron didn't budge. She won't forgive him that easily.

He leaned in closer to her and said in a low persuasive tone, "What if I promise not to do it again?"

Cameron looked at him and answered, "We both know where the problem with that sentence is." House noticed that her voice lost some of the previous edge.

He smiled at her. "True."

Cameron sighed and "unclenched", as House would say. It wasn't that she was weak, she just didn't believe in staying mad over something meaningless such as an innocent prank. She knew he didn't mean anything by it, it was just a part of who he was. And as much as she hated to admit it, this childishness was a part of his charm. However, she better keep that opinion to herself. God knows he doesn't need any more encouragement.

# # #

"Do you mind? Some people are trying to sleep," grumbled House as Cameron rolled over for the um-teenth time.

"Sorry," Cameron muttered in reply and tried to keep as still as possible.

She simply couldn't shake her mind off the images from the movie, which made her very much aware of all the noises. Screeching of car tyres somewhere in the distance, low murmur of people passing by on the sidewalk, each and every creak of the bed and then there were the indeterminable noises. These were the worst as her mind tried hectically to find their origin, wondering if they were there at all, or just a construct of her over-active imagination.

Each time she heard a particularly eerie sound, her eyes flew open of their own accord. The shadows cast by the dulled light sources morphed into bizarre shapes and nightmarish images like the red colour on a Rorschach test which suddenly became a bloody indicator of a violent crime. Sometimes your own mind is the worst place to be in.

She knew all the why's behind the paranoia, yet her heart was still beating much faster than normal, her breathing was more pronounced and her body as tense as if she were sleeping in a bed of nails. A shadow suddenly shifted and she quickly turned around, hoping that out of sight truly was out of mind.

She was now faced with House's irritated expression; he obviously did not appreciate the sudden movement.

Sighing heavily, he extended his arm and urged her, "Come on then." He was a smart man after all and it didn't take him long to connect the dots.

Cameron immediately snuggled up to House and he hugged her closer to him.

Old memories flooded her mind. Ever since she was a child, she was fond of cuddling. She loved nothing better than to crawl into the bed with her parents and to fall asleep to the sounds of a bedtime story. This then continued throughout all of her relationships with her boyfriends. She was lucky enough that all of them were of a similar mindset and have enjoyed the physical proximity. House was so different from any of them that she often wondered how she could have ever been attracted to him. But it's been so long since she fell asleep in someone's arms, years even, that none of that mattered.

Sensing her smile, he felt the need to clarify his actions. "This is a one time thing, so don't get too used to it. I just want to get some sleep."

"Sure," she murmured and held him just that much tighter. His heartbeat was like a steady beat of waves against the shore, the fall and rise of his chest a boat gently rocked by the ocean. His T-shirt still smelled of the fabric softener; a sweet flowery scent with a hint of freshness (his own fault for making her do the laundry). But most of all, it was the warmth of his body. Sleeping alone in a cold bed could not compare to the gentle heat his body radiated, assuring her that she was not alone. Someone was there with her. _He_ was there.

* * *

**A/N: **_Rorschach test is that inkblot test the psychologists use to determine whether or not you are crazy._

_I know I said this chapter would be mostly fluff but now that I think about it, I have no idea how I could have thought that that would work with a horror movie. A change of plan was in order, so I focused on the contrast: fear vs. safety, which has the added benefit of spicing things up a bit. I think it worked out quite well, plus there is still some fluff. _:)

_To stay true to my word, the next chapter will have to be up on Sunday. _


	32. Of love and loss

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_You might want to brace yourself for this one._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 32 - Of love and loss**_  
(End of month 1)_

_When the love of your life dies, the problem is not that some part of you dies too, which it does, but that some part of you is still alive. -- Jackie Kay: Trumpet_

It's funny how things change. All it takes is a moment and heaven becomes hell, joy turns into despair; life replaced by death, taking hope along for the ride and leaving nothing but pain and destruction in its wake.

Have you ever wondered why change for the worse is often instant while change for the better takes time? Hiroshima. A push of a button and thousands die. Instant death. Chernobyl. 20 years have passed and the effects are still felt. Earthquakes, tsunamis, floods, hurricanes, volcano eruptions…The change is instantaneous while its effects last.

Stephanie lost her fiancé yesterday in a hit-and-run car accident. They were planning to get married tomorrow. She lived while he died.

They say people cope with grief in different ways, some healthier than others, some more rational, others less. The word around the hospital was that the poor woman lost her mind, but Stephanie only wanted to fulfil her promise. They pledged to get married tomorrow.

The hospital was swarmed with reporters like vultures feasting on a newly dead animal. Cuddy thought that publicity will do them good. Spread the word, attract donors, collect money. You can't pass up an opportunity like this. A woman wanted to marry her dead fiancé.

# # #

What was supposed to be just a regular day in the hospital turned into a media circus. House complained to Cuddy several times, but it was all for nothing. All she could see were dollar signs, while doctors were being stopped left and right to give interviews. Some of them actually enjoyed the 5 minutes of fame, not that it surprised House.

He himself was stopped several times. Lab coat or no lab coat wasn't an issue here. Being a world renowned diagnostician did have its drawbacks sometimes. In the end, he was so fed up with everything that he locked himself in his office, encasing it in complete darkness and used a phone to communicate with his team. Perhaps some other day, he would have enjoyed listening to them being harassed by the reporters who were camping in front of his office, ready to pounce on him like a starved wild animal on its prey. Some other day perhaps, but not today.

When the late hours of the evening rolled around, Cuddy finally came to her senses. After all, patients, and doctors, needed their rest. House felt as if he could finally breath again after what seemed like ages. Yet, there was still one thing that bothered him. He couldn't get that woman out of his head. Just what would bring a person this far? She was a puzzle to him and he knew it will be gnawing at him until he solves it. He had to go talk to her and now that the hallways were empty, he dared to indulge in his curiosity.

When he entered her room just before midnight, he found her hunched over a letter. Her right leg was in a cast up to her hip, her face covered with bruises and cuts. As she raised her head to look at him, he saw that her eyes were swollen from the incessant flood of tears that stained her cheeks.

"What do you want?" Stephanie asked him wearily, not even bothering to ask who he was, or perhaps she knew already.

"What are you writing?" he returned, nodding towards the letter.

"A letter to the president, appealing to him that he allows the wedding."

House looked at her incredulously. "What wedding? Your boyfriend is dead."

If his insensitivity affected her, she showed no signs of it. "We gave a promise to each other and I will do everything in my power to fulfil it," she stated firmly.

"I'm sure dying justifies not keeping it," he commented sarcastically.

"I still love him. And I still want to be with him. I knew he was the one from the moment I met him and he knew it too. This wedding is everything we ever wanted. It's a confirmation of our bond and I won't stop until it happens." Spoken with vehement conviction.

"And I thought marriage was '_until_ death do us part' not _after_. Silly me," House mocked her.

"We are soul mates, nothing will ever part us. Even if he's not here anymore, I will always love him and I know that he's waiting for me somewhere."

"Soul mates, right. That's what you say _now_. In a few years, when you get swept of your feet by another guy, this will be just a sad story for a rainy day."

"That's not true," Stephanie shouted.

"_I_ know it is and somewhere deep down, I know _you_ know it too. If I got a nickel for every time I heard the words _soul mate_, _love of my life_ or _the one_, only to be taken back the next day. Why, I'd be a billionaire by now."

"I don't care what others say or do, our love was real."

House shook his head patronizingly. "You do realise that there is no chance this marriage will ever happen, right?"

This was the first time Stephanie faltered. Perhaps she didn't entirely lose touch with reality after all.

"I'll fight for it and I'll never give up. It wasn't Chris' fault that he died. If it wasn't for that drunk driver, we'd get married tomorrow. It's not fair."

"_Life_ isn't fair."

House left without another word. He thought that this visit would answer his questions; he was wrong. All it did was raise more.

* * *

**A/N:**_ Continued in the next chapter. _


	33. Hello darkness, my old friend

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 33 – Hello darkness, my old friend**_  
(End of month 1)_

_Hello, darkness, my old friend  
I've come to talk with you again_

_- Simon & Garfunkel: The Sound of Silence-_

"Where were you?" Cameron asked House as he entered the conference room with a pensive expression on his face.

"Talking to the nutso woman," he supplied, his mind still in that room 2 floors below.

Predictably, Cameron was appalled. "House, what did you say to her? She's grieving! You can't just…"

He interrupted her offhandedly, "Oh, relax… We had a nice…pleasant chat."

He needed some time to think this through, so he walked into his office, hoping she would get the hint. No such luck.

As he sat down behind his desk, she informed him, "In France, it is legal to marry a deceased as long as there was a prior intention to get married."

House's face changed almost imperceptibly at that revelation. Before, he just wanted to end the conversation, but now, he was intrigued. His eyes focused on Cameron with all their intensity.

"In France they also eat cheese for a dessert." He rhythmically tapped the desk with his fingers as his face transformed into one of deep concentration; the one he wore when he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"I'm surprised you know that," he commented thoughtfully after a while.

Cameron looked away. She was caught. "I talked to Stephanie," she admitted.

A tiny smirk graced House's lips. "Of course you did."

Why did she always feel the need to justify herself when it came to him? She didn't even do anything wrong. "It's been difficult for her, and everyone either treated her as gossip fodder or a lunatic."

"She _is_ a lunatic," House interjected.

"Just because she loves her fiancé?"

"He's dead," House reminded her.

"You don't stop loving someone just because they died." The words lingered heavily upon the silence of the room. You could hear a pin drop until House decided to stand up. He walked over to Cameron, stopping right in front of her.

"Speaking from experience?" he challenged her.

She met his gaze head on and answered firmly, "Yes."

House shook his head, breaking the eye contact. "She thinks they're soul mates. That he's waiting for her somewhere and that they'll be together for ever." The last part was said in a mock baby-talk.

Cameron shrugged. "Maybe they are."

He knew he shouldn't be, but he was still a little surprised at her answer. "You honestly believe in that crap?"

"I don't know about life after death, but I believe that some people fit together better than others." It didn't get past him that she was now trying to downplay the whole thing.

He huffed, "You would."

Cameron instinctively took on a defensive pose with her arms crossed over her chest. "What is that supposed to mean?"

House ignored her little fit of indignation and pursued what really interested him, "So, you believe that your husband was your soul mate? Your other half? You'll never be complete again now that he's gone?"

It wasn't just the fact that he was mocking her, because she was well used to that, no, she could also detect a certain hint of bitterness and even anger in his voice. It sounded almost as if he was blaming her for something.

"Just what exactly is your problem, House?"

"_I_ don't have a problem. It's Ms. I-want-to-marry-a corpse that has a problem, not me. She's being irrational and somewhere along the line when she meets potential hubby no. 2 she'll regret her decision. And then what?"

She should have known by now that this conversation wasn't going anywhere, but somehow he managed to provoke her enough to continue regardless. "You just can't believe that there are actually people out there who care about each other, can you?"

"This isn't about me," he interrupted her quickly, "By the way, you didn't answer my question."

A look of confusion spread over her face so he reminded her, "Your dearly beloved husband aka the love of your life."

She couldn't quite hide her initial reaction fast enough. "I loved him…"

Now, this was unexpected. "You don't think he was your soul mate?"

Cameron covered her face with her hands. It was a long day and she was exhausted. "I don't know…"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're trying to push this idea of endless love on anyone who would listen when you don't even believe in it yourself. You may have loved your husband for all I know. But I think it more likely that you married him out of pity," now that he started, he found himself unable to stop the flood of words rushing from his mouth. They were like an avalanche driven forward by its own weight, destroying everything in its path.

"When he died, your job was done and you don't want to believe in after life, because then he'd know that what you two had was nothing. He was just a pit stop for you."

A sound of a slap reverberated in the now quiet room. House felt the sting as if hundreds of needles prickled his skin. He woke up from his trance to notice Cameron's tear-stained cheeks for the first time. Hurt radiated from her face in waves and even though it moved something within him, he didn't regret any of his words. Not a single one.

The prickling sensation on his cheek already transformed into a comforting warmth when Cameron broke the silence, "How dare you! You have no right to belittle what I had with my husband. You know nothing about it. I _loved_ him and I still care about him. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about him. Just who do you think you are? To think that you had the nerve to say all those things… to judge _me_. What do _you_ know about love and commitment? You're so busy shoving everyone away that you wouldn't even notice it if it stared you right in the face."

His face remained impassive throughout her speech and he showed no intention of speaking again. There was nothing left to say. As he watched her walk out of the office he knew that he will be spending the night alone. Will it be just one of the many?

# # #

On her way to the car, Cameron collided with someone. She quickly apologised and was about to walk away without even looking at the person when she was stopped by a hand on her arm. Looking up, she saw that she had ran into James Wilson. Just her luck.

Noticing the tears, Wilson sighed. "What did he do now?"

Cameron was about to answer, when she was suddenly overcome with sobs. Wilson laid an arm around her and carefully guided her to a nearby bench. It took him several long minutes to calm her down enough to be able to speak.

When she did, her first word was, "Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," he answered while still rubbing her shoulder comfortingly.

"I thought that he was finally coming to. He's been fun to be around, even nice at times… And now… all the things he said, I don't know if I can…" the words choked in her throat. She swallowed heavily to try to keep the emotions at bay.

"You didn't honestly think that this could ever work out?" Wilson inquired as gently as possible.

Her silence spoke more than a thousand words.

"You did…" There was no mistaking the pity in his voice.

She knew she just made herself look like a naïve, pathetic girl that _he_ thought her to be.

That's why she hastened to explain herself, "I just thought… I thought that it would be interesting, maybe even fun… I never thought it through this far… I never really considered what would happen if this blew up in my face… or if it went great… I just… I don't know…"

She stopped her rant and looked at him with a defeated expression on her face. "Go ahead, say it."

Wilson raised his eyebrows. "Say what?"

She smiled sadly at him, "I told you so."

Wilson returned the smile. He didn't want to be right, but knowing House, this was bound to happen. All he could do now was to help her as best as he could.

"What are you going to do now?"

She shook he head. "I don't know… I really don't know…"

"If you need a place to stay, or someone to talk to… I know better than anyone what House can be like," he offered.

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks. I'll be fine. I just need some time to think this over."

"Ok, but if you need anything…"

"I know where to find you."

* * *

**A/N:** _It would appear that we need to talk. _

_I hoped that you would eventually come to your senses, even though I knew better than that. Oh well…_

_If I repeat some ground rules in case you've forgotten them… Criticism is what helps an author grow. I am an author and I want to improve, ergo I welcome it with open arms. You can't really fix something, if you don't know that it's wrong, right? I'll repeat that I'm doing this mostly for you, that's why you have a certain say in what and how I write. I know I can be very headstrong and there are certain things that I need to have a certain way, but this is fanfiction, not high literature. I demand a certain level of quality (especially from myself), but other than that, the point of this is to make your fantasies come true. So, if you think there are not enough House/Cameron moments, too many songfic-ish chapters, fillers or just plain nonsense, perhaps I can do something about that, but only if you point out the issue. _

_Given the recent lack of response I have to conclude that I either went somewhere completely wrong with the last few chapters (which I find hard to believe) and you're afraid to tell me that, or… well the alternative is not so flattering… for you, that is._

_If you have a problem with me, the same applies. I'm always willing to talk about anything, that's how I prefer to solve my problems. I'm a reasonable person and can compromise, if necessary. _

_You see, if you start ignoring me, I'll ignore you as well, and I think we all know what that means. _

_I hate hypocrisy. You can't have your cake and eat it people, it doesn't work like that. Although I am usually all for being exploited, I happen to be in the middle of an exam month and the GPA has more than just a symbolic value for me. This means that I don't have much time and as much as I do have, I prefer to use it on people and things that are worth it. _

_I really don't have time for this kindergarten nonsense, so either you grow up and deal with the problem (if there in fact is one) or I'm closing the shop. _

_The ball's in your court. _

_(I apologise to those whom this does not concern.) _


	34. A new beginning

**Disclaimer: **_Nope. _

**A/N:**_ Read first, lecture later. It seems that the majority of you has completely misunderstood what I said in the last A/N. So, I suggest that you read the one at the end of this chapter, it should clear some things up. But first, enjoy. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 34 – A new beginning**_  
(Beginning of month 2)_

It probably goes without saying that he was right. Allison spent the last two days at her apartment and he spent the last two days reacquainting himself with the liqueur bottle. He barely touched it since they got together. How could he, if she was always around, watching his every move. Well, now that he was alone again, he had to catch up on all the lost opportunities. He took a couple extra Vicodin to counter the side effects, but by the way she looked at him, she probably knew. However, he wasn't the only one with secrets; judging by the redness around her eyes, she spent quite some time crying. Not that he cared.

At work, both of them acted as if nothing was wrong, but anyone who paid attention would notice that there was a certain coldness between the two of them. Foreman kept glancing suspiciously at them and Wilson avoided talking about Allison, which was odd. Chase didn't notice anything, but he was probably still too busy bemoaning his misfortune. As for him, he had no intention of approaching her, but that didn't matter since he knew she would approach him eventually. It took her two days.

Just as he was getting ready to leave for the day, she walked up to him. He immediately knew what the conversation would be about and his heart started beating just that much faster.

"We need to talk." Calm. Composed. Determined.

"I'm not apologising." No way was he getting on his knees for her.

"Did I ask you to?" Surprisingly, she neither looked, nor sounded angry.

He shrugged. "That's how it's supposed to go. A couple has a fight, the guy apologises and they move on."

A ghost of a smile emerged on her lips. "I was thinking…"

"Uh oh." That was officially the worst way to start a conversation. Nothing good ever came of it.

"Will you let me finish?" There was that annoyance coming to the surface. He did have a knack for driving people on the brink of despair, both, willingly and unwillingly.

He made a vague hand gesture, signalling that he would keep his mouth shut (for the time being).

Cameron took a deep breath and he felt that nervousness that was accumulating since the moment she entered his office begin to brim over.

"Neither of us is really good at this…" Ain't that the truth? Well, technically, he was the one causing the trouble.

"You're you…" He shot her a look that said just about everything he thought of that comment. She didn't let it distract her.

"And I…I didn't have the best luck with relationships so far…" That's a revelation. Funny she should do that before blowing him off. On the other hand, it was probably just her version of 'it's not you, it's me speech'. As if he needed that to keep his ego intact.

"So I thought that we should seek professional help." Exactly my point. Whoa, wait a minute. Did she just…

"You want us to go see a shrink?"

"A marriage counsellor. As I said, none of us is really good at this relationship thing and even after the bet is over, what we learn may come in handy in another relationship."

She certainly put a lot of thought into this. Into convincing him to go along with it. He couldn't help but feel oddly relived that she didn't want to call it quits just yet. No doubt, it was the sex. That's what he'd miss. Not her.

"He'll say that I developed a fixation on my mother and that I'm attracted to you because you remind me of her in her younger days, while you had a very close relationship with your father and you now see me as his substitute. Hence wanting to be with someone that much older. Our relationship has issues because we both know that this is wrong and the only way we'll get over those issues is if I admit that I want to fuck my mother and you admit that you want to be screwed by your father. There, problem solved."

Cameron smiled and shook her head. "You do realise that you have no choice?"

"There's always a choice."

She kept smiling in that infuriating manner, as if she was sure that he would eventually give in. He hated it but at the same time it made him want to kiss her senseless. The only reason he held back was because that would mean admitting that she was in control. Instead, he grabbed his backpack and began walking out of the office.

As soon as she got in stride with him, he asked her in what he hoped was a nonchalant tone, "Does that mean you're moving in again?"

That annoying smile just wouldn't leave her face. "I never moved out."

"_It sure felt like you did,_" he thought, but refrained from saying.

Oh crap, his place was a mess since she left. Thank God he took his bike with him that day, so he could dispose of the offending items before she reaches the apartment.

# # #

As they lay in bed that night, that distinct awkwardness made an appearance once again. The only difference was, that this time, they were not afraid to make a move but rather too stubborn to do so. They both knew that whoever initiated the contact would immediately be labelled as the more needy and submissive one. Status quo was the best solution for the time being.

Still, Cameron was glad that she decided to stay. She was neither pathetic nor crazy. After thinking long and hard about the situation, she was certain that she made the right call. What he said two days ago hurt her deep down. It hurt her more than she thought it was possible and that would be a sufficient reason to walk away, but it also made her realise something. It wasn't just about what was said, but also who said it. She wouldn't have been so affected if she didn't care about his opinion and she wouldn't have cared about his opinion if she didn't feel anything for him. But she did. It wasn't just a game for her anymore, if it ever was. She wanted to make this work and she was determined to try her best. He was worth the effort.

Before, all she could see were glimpses of light beneath his mask, but even that was enough to fight tooth and nail anyone who claimed that he was just a heartless bastard. Since they were together she saw more of that light and she found that she was drawn towards it. Every time he let his guard down just a little and showed her what was beneath it, she was overcome by absolute certainty that this was what she wanted. She won't give up on him, especially…

Perhaps this was just her wishful thinking but after going over their argument for the 100th time she realised that maybe he was afraid to lose her. It made perfect sense, given what he said…

"_You live under the delusion that you can fix everything that isn't perfect. That's why you married a man who was dying of cancer. You don't love, you need. And now that your husband is dead, you're looking for your new charity case. That's why you're going out with me. I'm twice your age, I'm not great-looking, I'm not charming; I'm not even nice. What I am is what you need. I'm damaged." _

He was challenging her. If she gave up then he'd know that she wasn't serious and she would walk away before she could hurt him. She failed the test the first time but she wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

"_This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're trying to push this idea of endless love on anyone who would listen when you don't even believe in it yourself. You may have loved your husband for all I know. But I think it more likely that you married him out of pity. When he died, your job was done and you don't want to believe in after life, because then he'd know that what you two had was nothing. He was just a pit stop for you."_

If there was just a glimmer of hope that he felt something for her too, then that was enough to make her stay. Even if it meant putting her heart at stake, she will make him see that they could work and that she was going nowhere. This would be their new beginning.

* * *

**AN:** _That A/N was a test and consequently a manipulation, I suppose. It was meant to be provocative, because I saw no other way to achieve what I wanted. You'll probably hate me for this as well, but sometimes there's just no other way to get the rats out of the hole than to use smoke. I see that most of you misinterpreted the point, I'll shortly explain what it was really about, but before that… _

_A collective answer to your reviews:_

_Those who didn't quite know what it was about or missed the point, yet were still supportive (to some extent):  
Frankly, I think you're too nice for your own good, which tends to back-fire more often than not in real life. Thank you for not judging but rather trying to find some light or reason in the whole thing. If there were more people like you, the world would be a better place. Thanks for returning my faith in humanity. _

_Those who cleverly avoided the issue and praised me instead:  
This is not what I intended to achieve, but at least it means that you really like the story. Thanks anyway._

_Those that admitted that you were clueless:  
Very nice. It also means that my rant was most likely not aimed at you. _

_Those who misunderstood the issue and consequently got annoyed/angry with me:  
This is a valid reaction. I would get annoyed too, if someone was withholding a chapter because of a lack of reviews. I honestly hate that. But that's not what it was about, though I admit that I was manipulating, condescending, etc. _

_Those who stopped reading because you misunderstood the issue:  
There's nothing I can do about that but let this be a lesson to us all. Let's look before we leap otherwise we might regret it some day. First impressions are often wrong. _

_Those who know what this is about or at least have an inkling and still dislike me:  
You know..._

_Now, let's explain some things: Writing is more or less fun, but it also takes a lot of time and energy, so I might want to spend my time differently. However, I enjoy making other people happy. As I already said, I write for you. If you're happy, I'm happy. And that's enough for me. You don't have to review. Of course, I enjoy reading them and I appreciate them, but I do know what it's like. _

_You don't have time, you're tired, lazy, can't think of anything intelligent to say, you're not comfortable enough expressing yourself in English, etc. All those are valid reasons, some of which I'm also guilty of on occasion. _

_What bothers me is if you don't review because you harbour some negative feelings towards me. If that's the case, then let's talk about it. I know that acting in a mature way can be oh so difficult and if you can't manage that, then at least stay out of my way. If you stop reviewing to punish me but continue reading my story… I call that hypocrisy. I can feel all that negative energy wafting towards me and it bothers me, as you might have noticed. I have reason to believe this happened recently (I may be wrong), so to avoid a repeat of this situation…_

_I can be blatantly honest. Some people don't like that. Take a moment to meditate on that. Now all of you who might be bothered by it and therefore don't want me to review your stories, respond to your reviews or communicate with you through pm's tell me now, so we can avoid all of this nonsense in the future. I will respect your decision._

_For the time being I will continue this story because I gave you my word, but please don't tempt me. Oh, and my decision will NOT be based on the number of reviews. _

_

* * *

__English tenses seem to be a nemesis for many non-native speakers, at least in my country. I thought I somewhat got the hang of them, but it seems I was wrong. I'll pay special attention to them in the future. _

_Uh, chapters that resemble email spam? Which would those be? Hmm, perhaps those with the kids… I admit I used some unnecessary fillers in the beginning of the story, mainly for my own amusement. If I remember correctly, I stopped that sometime after they got married, so if there's any chapter after that point that you find particularly redundant, do tell._


	35. Step 0

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Their first counselling session. I opted for a more personal approach. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 35 – Step 0: Prerequisite for a happy marriage is…**_  
(Month 2, Week 1)_

Wilson caught up with House on his way to the office. "You doing anything tomorrow evening?"

"Why?"

"There will be a women's beach volley broadcast on TV. I though we could watch that, get a couple of beers, maybe a pizza…"

House walked into his office and stopped. He tapped the floor a couple of times with his cane, then answered, "Can't. Already have plans for tomorrow."

"With who?" The sound of surprise in Wilson's voice made House turn around.

"Allison, who else?"

"Oh."

House raised his eyebrows. "Is there anything I should know?"

That seemed to snap Wilson out of his shock. He quickly began to cover up after his slip, "No, no… I just… Well, have fun then…" and he walked out of the office as fast as possible.

_The next day _

Ai Jacobsen was a psychiatrist and even though she had her own practice only for a short while, she could immediately tell, if a couple had any chance of staying together. Already when she was a child, could she notice the minute differences in speech, actions and body language. Her parents believed that she had a gift, that this was her chosen path in life. When you're blessed with such an ability, you should nurture it and use it to help others. Ai followed her parents' advice and while she was taking postgraduate classes in the USA, she met Christian. Soon, they got married and opened a practice specialising in relationship counselling. She loved her job more than anything and she was quite good at it. A lot has changed since she was just a small girl with big dreams, living in small town in Japan, but one thing remained the same; it were still the small things that revealed the most about a person.

When a couple entered her office, the first clue was how they sat. Close together or on opposite sides of the couch? Did they touch, hold hands? Did they make eye contact or did they stare at the floor? Did they look at her or were they too ashamed? It only took her moments to decide whether they came as a couple or more of a separate entities.

She discovered that there was always one partner who came to her open minded and willing to work with her, while the other doomed the attempt to failure before it even began. It was her job then, to make both of them trust her and eventually trust each other.

Her current appointment was a couple who seemed to be an odd match in all regards. The man was in his mid 40's, he walked with a cane and apparently was not too concerned about his outer appearance. The woman was around 30, smartly dresses and with a warm smile.

As soon as they entered her office, Ai immediately started searching for possible causes of conflict in their relationship. Age difference was an obvious first choice and then there was also the husband's handicap. When they sat down, Ai noticed that they sat close enough to be considered personal, but a bit short of intimate. The man was quiet and kept bouncing his cane, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. The woman, on the other hand, was very friendly and took over the initial pleasantries. Ai was quite sure that she was the one who decided for counselling, but that was not unusual, since women were often more willing to ask for help than men. Still, she seemed a bit apprehensive, something that was about to change soon enough.

"Tell me a bit about your relationship." An easy question for a warm-up.

Allison, as the woman introduced herself, spoke, "We've been married for a month and…"

House blatantly ignored the psychiatrist. They were all the same, good-for-nothing-waste-your-time charlatans.

"How long were you together before you got married?" Ai inquired.

Cameron felt uncomfortable by that question. They agreed with House not to tell her about their bet, but she was a psychiatrist. It was her job to read people and Cameron was never good at lying. She wore her heart on her sleeve, as House so eloquently put it.

Noticing that Cameron was at a loss for words, House jumped in, "Not that long. She was so crazy about me that she wanted to seal the deal right then and there."

"We've worked together for a couple of years," Cameron added, before House could embarrass her further, "and then we just…"

"Right, you're both doctors," Ai checked her notes, "Princeton Plainsboro?"

"Yes, the Diagnostics department," Cameron supplied.

"You work in the same department?" Ai asked casually.

"Actually, I'm her boss," House smirked.

Ai kept smiling politely and asked, "And how's that working for you two?"

House glanced curiously at Cameron, who answered, "It's not that much of a problem I think; there are other more important issues…"

"Go on," Ai encouraged her.

"I think we jumped into this a bit too fast. We didn't fully realise what it would mean and we've both previously had several failed relationships, so…"

"You're afraid to trust one another?"

"Yes and we just don't know what to do to make this work," Cameron admitted.

"I might have a perfect solution for you," said Ai and handed each of them a pamphlet.

She began explaining, "I start a relationship workshop next week. It's aimed at couples who've lost their spark over the years, those who are already faced with some difficulties at the beginning of their relationship or simply those who wish to learn more about themselves and why their past relationships didn't work out. It's a 5 step program and we will have one session per week. The workshop will concentrate on teaching you how to solve the most common problems and trying to help you build strong foundations for your relationship. But before you sign up for it, I must ask you two things. Firstly, do you honestly care about each other?"

Upon seeing that the couple hesitated in answering, Ai explained, "You may know that love is not enough to keep a marriage alive and a lack of love doesn't necessarily mean that a relationship will fail, but there has to be some form of affection between the partners. Without it, there is no point in continuing."

House threw his arm around Cameron's shoulders and pulled her closer while she rested her palm on his thigh. He said, "Of course we care," in a somewhat ironic and annoyed manner, but Ai was convinced.

There were only two ways of how a couple reacted to an outside stressor; either they started blaming each other and the chasm in their relationship only widened, or they stepped together and forgot about their differences. That is why she was sure that these two will overcome their issues, all they needed was a push in the right direction.

"The other thing I need to know is if you are committed to make this work and are willing to follow my instructions."

House and Cameron looked at each other. While he only shrugged, she answered with conviction, "Yes."

* * *

**A/N: **_A lot of you assumed that marriage counselling would me some heavy-duty therapy, but I decided against it for two reasons. Firstly, I want this story to be mostly positive. Of course, I use angst every now and then, but only enough to make it appear somewhat realistic. And secondly, delving into certain issues would mean we'd focus mostly on characters separately, or in the best case, on only a few aspects of their relationship. What I want to do with this fic is observe how House and Cameron's relationship would evolve if they gave it a chance and possibly explore what are the necessary ingredients for a happy marriage. _

_Unfortunately, I have another round of exams coming my way, two of which are the most difficult in this year. You know what that means, right… I thought I could somehow make it, but it seems that the days are not long enough and my concentration is not strong enough, so there might not be another update for a week or two. I'm sorry, but at least I'll be free for at least two months after these are over. _


	36. Step 1

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:**_ I'm back and I'm all yours for about 2 months, then I'll have some personal vendettas to carry out before classes start in October. Until then, there will be 2 chapters per week, perhaps 3 on occasion; I'll have to think about that. I'd really like to end this story soon, so I'll have to pick up the pace. Somehow I always hugely underestimate the length of my stories. Here's one super long chapter for having made you wait so long for an update. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 36 – Step 1: Don't miss a beat  
**_(Month 2, Week 2)_

The room had a natural feel to it with the rich shades of Brazilian cherry hardwood floor and the green plants set either on the floor or on the low Japanese style tables hugging the walls. The minimalistic furnishing style radiated freedom and tranquillity. A sound system in the corner played relaxing Asian chill-out music, which added to the all-around feeling of peace.

Each couple was set on a floor mattress adorned with several light blue and green cushions with intricate patterns. Apart from House and Cameron, there were 4 other couples, their age ranging from early thirties to late fifties.

The workshop leaders, Ai and Christian, set on their own mattress in front of the group. Ai was a typical Japanese woman of a small stature with long, black hair and dark eyes, while Christian was of an average build with short curly reddish-blond hair. Both of them seemed completely at ease while they explained the nature and the specifics of the workshop. Afterwards, it was time for initial introductions of the couples, which House followed with a distinctly bored expression on his face.

Once the couples were familiar with each other, Christian spoke, "You are all here for the same reason. You have come across an obstacle in your relationships which you can't solve on your own. You've come here to ask for help. And that is fine. We're all still learning. No matter what you were taught to believe, relationship skills don't come naturally. You acquire them over time and often it takes many failed attempts to get it right. You are here because you have found that special someone, but you have not yet mastered these skills. You are willing to try to make your relationship work, because you love your partner. As you've discovered, love sometimes isn't enough and that's where we jump in."

Christian smiled lovingly at Ai and clasped their hands. House had just enough time to imagine that they were caught in a _7__th__ heaven_ universe with the shrinks starring as the ever understanding parents and them as the unruly kids who were always in need of a lecture, before Ai continued, "Relationships are like living organisms; they grow and change with time. Perhaps some of you expected that your relationship will always be the same as the day you married. It can't stay the same, because you're not the same people as you were back then. You grow and change and so should your relationship. If you don't follow that principle, then you will soon become estranged. You will forget to talk and show affection and it won't be long before you will be nothing more than strangers living under the same roof."

Two women in the group solemnly nodded while their husbands appeared grim.

Ai smiled warmly at them and said, "The good news is that we can change that. We'll start with something easy in this session. We all know how important are conversations, but there will be enough time for that later. Today, we will focus on regaining the physical closeness."

"Oh goody, an orgy," House interjected.

"I'm sorry, Dr. House, but we only have orgies reserved for our sex workshop," Ai joked.

House turned to Cameron and inquired, "Now why didn't we sign up for that one instead?"

He ignored her annoyed expression and turned back to the therapists. "Is it still possible?" he asked hopefully.

"It's all full," Christian informed him with a smile.

"A shame," House sighed.

"Let's continue, shall we?" Christian commented, still amiably, and then proceeded without waiting for a reply, "As Ai said, in this session, we will focus on developing intimacy. You will learn once again how to show affection for each other, because apart from verbal expressions of love, it is the small touches, kisses and hugs, which can sometimes express even more than words. We'll start with an easy exercise that will hopefully relax you and bring you closer together."

He caught Ai's gaze, signalling her to continue and she began giving instructions, "Please sit so that you are facing each other with the partner."

After the group rearranged themselves, she carried on, "Now, husbands, take one of your wife's hands and place it against your chest; wives do the same with your husband's hand. Remain in that position. Good, now close your eyes and concentrate on my instructions."

House did as he was told though not without some heavy sighs and annoyed glances.

"Now concentrate on your partner's breathing, feel how their chest expands."

He always thought of these exercises as childish. Holding hands, breathing, visualisation… None of that ever changed anything.

"Try to synchronise your breathing. Slowly. Take your time."

Geez. He'd gladly do anything but this… Her breaths came and went in slow and deep exhales. He could feel each of them as clearly as his own. She was all game and he knew it. He had no choice but to follow along.

"Relax. Take your time. Concentrate only on your partner's breathing and slowly try to match it with your own."

He tried to focus on the task for the first time. Her hands felt warm against his and he could hear her gentle exhales over the background music. The whole situation made him feel uncomfortable in a completely new way. He wanted to run away as fast as he could but he was rooted to the spot.

"You're doing great. Now we'll change the pattern."

Ai's voice felt as if it came from a great distance and he could hardly remember that they were surrounded by several other couples.

"While one of you inhales, the other will exhale. Take your time."

This time, it was even easier to comply with the demand. Soon, their breaths felt like tidal waves cleansing the shore. Like a chemical equilibrium; two opposing reactions sustaining the status quo; changing while remaining perpetually the same.

"Very good. Now for one last time, you will again synchronise your breaths."

Only now did House realise that Ai's voice came from a different location. She must have moved during the exercise.

"Very good. Feel the connection."

He did feel it. Their breaths were one as if they came from a single person and not two.

"Good. Very good. Now you will slowly open your eyes and release you partner's hand. Take your time. There is no hurry."

When he once again became aware of the surroundings, the first thing he saw were her eyes and he was captivated by them. It took him several moments before he was able to put up his defences and tear his eyes from hers.

"Remain seated as you are," Christian instructed, "and focus on what you are feeling at the moment. Let those feelings wash over you."

Some moments later, he spoke again, "There is another exercise we will try now. This one will be the last one today, so I want you to really focus on my instructions. Women, please hold out one of your hands with palm facing upwards and men, place you hand on top of it, so that your palms touch. Now men, hold out your other hand, palm facing upwards and women, place your hand on top of it. This way, each of you will have one of your partner's hands to look at. If you feel uncomfortable, just try to relax. Take a deep breath and try to focus on the instructions. "

At that point, Ai took over, "Take a good look at your partner's hand. Notice its details. Take a moment to appreciate its uniqueness. Is it bigger than your hand? Smaller? Notice the feeling of the skin…"

As Ai guided them through the exercise, Cameron was overcome by a feeling of complete calmness. She enjoyed the feel of his skin against hers and she felt close to him in a way she never did before.

"…Take a moment to appreciate all of those little details."

She studied his hand, tried to burn the image into her memory, because she knew that normally he'd never let her look at any part of him for this long.

Christian continued, "Now I want you to notice that this hand you're holding right now hasn't always looked quite like this. It actually started off a lot smaller. There was a moment when this hand was one of a baby, grasping out for the first time..."

Following Christian's instructions, Cameron let her mind run free. She was taken to the past, imagining what he was like as a baby, a toddler, a small child…

"…Take a moment to imagine all of the things these hands have done."

She remembered how he told them about two months ago how he looked for mummies in Egypt and she could now vividly see this small blue-eyed boy crawling in dark narrow corridors. It brought a smile to her lips.

Ai continued, "Now keep playing through that slideshow in your mind and let it move forward again. Watch the hands continue to grow and change. Imagine what these hands looked like the very first time you touched."

She still remembered that day almost three years ago; her job interview with the great Gregory House. She was impossibly nervous and hasn't slept a wink that night. The moment she first stood face to face with him, she immediately felt his powerful presence and she was sure then, that she had no chance of getting the job. He would never choose her. And when he did, it felt as if the whole world stopped on its axis. It took one of his remarks to shake her out of her stupor. She at once apologised and held out her hand. He took it.

"Try to see in your mind what these hands looked like all the different times they've been with you…"

Those moments were few but she treasured every single one of them.

"…Notice how all these events, all this history; from when these hands were little baby hands to when they first met you… All this history has brought you to this moment right now. Holding these hands, noticing what they look like, how they feel… Take a moment to appreciate that."

She suddenly felt the weight of emotions start to weigh down on her. They already had so much history, so many moments that meant everything, yet nothing…

"And now project these hands into the future. Notice them aging, growing old, imagine how they change. The skin gets wrinkled, perhaps more pale…"

She imagined what it would be like if they stayed together. If their relationship didn't already have a set expiration date. She swallowed heavily as tears began gathering in her eyes.

"…Take a moment to appreciate all of the possibilities for these hands."

All of the possibilities she would never know. Silent tears of sorrow slid down her cheeks.

"Notice how far these hands have come and how far they have yet to go. They have been through an awful lot, and we can't predict exactly what the future will bring. For the moment, though, these hands are here, these hands which were once those of a baby and will one day be those of an old person, they are here, now, in this moment. For all that has happened to them, and for all that is yet to happen, they are here now, in your hands. And you have a choice about how you want to hold your partner's hands. _This moment _is in your hands."

She could only wish that were true.

"Given the big picture of your whole lives, of your relationship… What's important to you right now? How do you want to hold these hands? What really matters to you here in this moment?" Ai concluded.

If there was any doubt left in her mind before, then there was none now. _He_ mattered.

"You can let go of each other's hands now," said Christian, "and take some time to acknowledge your emotions. You can talk about them with your partner if you want or simply hug each other. We'll give you a few minutes."

As House met her eyes again, he wasn't surprised to notice the tears. Quickly glancing around the room, he saw that all of the women had teary eyes and even some of the men. The room was thick with emotions and it unnerved him. What was he supposed to do now? When he looked at her again, she made the decision for him as she hugged him tightly and he found that he didn't hate it. Even more, it felt kind of nice. He must have been hypnotised by all of that psycho babble. Or brainwashed. There was no other explanation.

Before the session ended, the couples were given their homework: at least one repeat of the breathing exercise, an eye contact exercise that Ai and Christian demonstrated and most importantly, a no sex rule. The rationale being something about different kinds of intimacy and… House was still too caught up in trying to rationalise his emotions and distracted by Allison being pressed tightly against him, to really listen or even protest. The only other thing he heard was something about lots of hugging, cuddling and holding hands.

* * *

**A/N:**_ I've got all of the sessions planned already, which should make writing the next couple of chapters reasonably fast. I've got to say that Google has been quite unforthcoming when it came to these things but I suppose it would be too easy if you could get a full workshop plan online, wouldn't it? Psychology is one of my spare time research topics so I know this and that, but if there are any experts on the subject, you can freely criticise my methods. _

_I really am a stickler to everything proper and in accordance to natural laws, unlike certain shows, House included. They bend scientific truth any way they like it and then we have medical students who learn the wrong way how to handle an epilepsy attack, but that's a story for another day… At least __**I**__ would be happy if they actually listened to their medical advisors and while they're at it, they might as well hire a couple of psychologists so the characters won't act as if they had a multiple personality disorder._

_The second exercise in this chapter was taken from YouTube and you can probably find it if you search for "couples mindfulness". There's something I've got to ask you here… How detailed do you want me to be with the psychological techniques? I figured that you'd prefer if I didn't write every single word the psychiatrists said and rather summed it up in places while including House and Cameron's emotions. If you have any preferences about that, I'm pretty much open to suggestions in that department. _


	37. Can't take my eyes off you

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I've got to admit that I'm currently quite distracted by the World Cup. Luckily, the frequency of matches is lowering and I'll soon have more time to focus on the fic rather than rant about incompetence of referees and bad luck. I usually don't care much about football, but World Cups make me a fanatic. _

_I know, I know, you must think that I chose the single most corny quote possible but you're wrong. When a particularly corny thing is used so often that it crosses the line of corniness, we call it a classic. And classics are cool. Plus, just about every literate person has read the book at least once. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 37 – Can't take my eyes off you**_  
(Month 2, Week 2)_

_Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry: The Little Prince_

"Again?" Wilson asked him, clearly surprised, "This is the third weekend in a row that you're busy." He paused a little before inquiring, "Can I join you?"

"I don't think that would be such a good idea," House answered.

"Why not?"

House gave him a pointed look.

"Oooh," Wilson grimaced, but then a thought occurred to him, "Wait a minute, I know your tricks. You're just trying to make me drop the subject, but it won't work this time. What are you _really_ doing with her every weekend?"

House glared at Wilson but seeing that he won't relent, he reluctantly admitted, "We're seeing a marriage counsellor."

Wilson was dumbfounded at the revelation.

"Go ahead, rub it in…" House grumbled as he sat down behind his desk.

"Why would I?" Wilson finally spoke, "It's a smart thing to do. If I visited one, maybe I wouldn't be divorced now."

House immediately snatched the opportunity to mock Wilson and effectively steer the conversation away from his marriage, "It might work the first time you cheated on her but I highly doubt she'd be so forgiving the second time… or the third."

"She cheated on me," Wilson defended.

"This one. What about all the others?"

"You're making it sound like I married half of New Jersey."

"If you also count in those that you dated and had an affair with... Yeah, sounds about right. You're certainly not pacing yourself." House smirked and stood up. "You can drop by tomorrow, if you want," he added before walking out.

**# # #**

"Oh come on, it's not that difficult," House complained as Cameron fought another fit of laughter.

"I'm sorry," she managed to utter while clutching her stomach.

"If we fail at this, I'll make sure everyone knows it was your fault."

Finally managing to calm herself down, she objected, "That's not fair. If you didn't look at me that way…"

"What way?" House feigned innocence.

Cameron stammered, trying to find the right words and finally settling on, "Mischievously."

When he raised his eyebrows questioningly, she explained, "Like you want me to laugh."

"I do no such thing," he faked offense and she laughed again.

Taking a deep breath now, she suggested, "Let's try it again, but no foul play this time."

He set the egg timer once again and then locked his eyes with hers.

Looking in another person's eyes for 5 minutes sounds simple enough, but as Cameron was discovering, it was anything but. As much as she didn't mind any form of physical closeness, the intimacy of unwavering eye contact was proving to be more than she could handle. Perhaps it was true after all that eyes are the window to the soul. Eyesight may just be the most important sense when it comes to processing cues from the environment; it is what helps us create our own perception of the world around us. What remains to be answered is, if the outside world can also see inside a person through the same means. Are eyes truly a window or more of a mirror?

She sometimes compared eyes to the sky where the turbulent ever-changing weather represented human emotions. A single look to what lay above you could tell you everything you needed to know. The most beautiful shade of blue, undisturbed, except for the bright yellow orb illuminating the Earth; smatterings of white, resembling almost translucent cotton bolls being driven here and there by the light breeze; the entire expanse of the sky covered by a heavy greyness only illuminated by intermittent flashes of lightning; every shade of red, the sky as if painted by a great impressionist artist, a perfect painting of the sunset.

His eyes were now the dark engulfing blueness of a winter sky entrenched with a bone chilling cold. The air so cold that you could hardly breathe could only be interpreted as a warning, a last line of defence: stay away, there's nothing to see here. Go back inside, into the warmth of your bed.

This time she was determined to make it. She won't waver from his intense gaze and she won't let him distract her by his goofy expressions. She will neither defend nor attack; no pressure, no expectations, just a steady gaze.

Just when his eyes appeared to be softening, there was a knock on the door and she instinctively followed the origin of the sound with her eyes.

"No! Why did you look away?" House complained.

Realising what she had done, she apologised guiltily.

House sighed and then shouted, "Come in, it's open."

Wilson carefully opened the door and when he saw that the coast was clear, he entered more confidently. That's when the egg timer decided to go off and consequently attracted the gazes of all three doctors.

Wilson gave the couple a strange look which House answered with, "Don't ask."

He grabbed the timer and placed it in Cameron's hands, ordering, "I'm hungry. Go make me something to eat."

Cameron sighed and got on her way with Wilson following closely since he offered his help.

While they were making blueberry pancakes, Wilson started, "It's nice to actually see some food in his kitchen," and she smiled.

He paused before asking what really interested him, "So, you're OK now?"

"Define OK," she answered wryly.

She flipped a pancake and then inquired, "How much did he tell you?"

"He said that you're visiting a counsellor. I still can't believe you convinced him to do that… And I think it's a good thing," he added quickly, "He could use some counselling… of any kind."

Cameron smiled and turned around. She could just barely see House from where she was standing.

"Are you in love with him?" Wilson asked her gravely.

She snapped back to him and answered quickly, "What? No… I just…"

She found House with her eyes again. "I like him," she finally admitted and turned to Wilson to gauge his reaction.

"Enough to want to be with him even if it wasn't for the bet?"

She cast her eyes down and took a moment to compose herself. Admitting her defeat, she pleaded with him, "You can't tell him."

"I won't."

"I meant it. If he finds out…" There was desperation in her voice.

"I won't tell him," he repeated, "I promise."

It wasn't enough to convince her. She knew that there were no secrets between Wilson and House.

**# # #**

When they lay down in bed that night, House immediately turned on his side, facing away from Cameron.

"If I remember correctly, we're supposed to be cuddling," she commented as she got settled next to him.

"Did enough of that already this week. Besides, you were all over me when Wilson was here," he murmured into the pillow without moving a muscle.

"Excuse me, but as far as I can remember, you were the one who kept dragging me closer," she protested.

"Exactly. My cuddling duty for the week has been fulfilled."

He has made up his mind and she knew that he won't move. Should she? She was a bit afraid, because he sounded as if he was in no joking mood, but…

She gathered up all of her courage and carefully slid closer to him. She pressed herself against his back and wound her arm around his side, placing her palm on his upper abdomen.

"You just can't keep your hands off me, can you?" he grumbled.

She pressed a soft kiss against the nape of his neck and murmured, "Stop complaining."

Soon, both of them fell into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

**A/N:** _Mind you, that eye contact exercise is not a staring contest, blinking is allowed, but that does not make it much easier. Laughing is actually a natural response and it takes some determination to keep a straight face, but to keep eye contact for 5 whole minutes, well…_


	38. Step 2

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:**_ Before I forget, Ai is a quite common name in Japan and it means "love". That's just me being glib, I suppose, though I like the name. As far as I'm aware, it's pronounced the same way as the English "I". _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 38 - Step 2: Dating all over again**_  
(Month 2, Week 3)_

"A common mistake that couples make is that they stop working on their relationship after marriage. They believe that after they married the person they wanted, they don't need to woo or pamper their partner anymore because he or she is going nowhere. That assumption is often wrong, but even when it's right, it leads to a very poor marriage. This is one of the reasons why marriages lose their spark. Many believe that this is the natural course of every relationship, but it doesn't have to be so."

Another week, another session. He didn't like it. Still. He didn't know what was more annoying: the psycho babble or the "exercises". He hated it all. One down, four more to go. Soon there will be two down, three to go. He had to keep his eyes on the prize, that's what kept it bearable.

"There are ways to keep it interesting, just think back to the days when you were still dating; how exciting everything was then. Part of it was the novelty, but another part was that you never knew what would happen the next day. Would your partner call you, make a surprise visit, ask you for a date? As you now live together, it is not possible to keep up that same state of anticipation but you can still surprise your partner every now and then."

This crease in the fabric of the blanket covering their mattress really was interesting. It's fascinating how light gets reflected from objects and depending on the location of the light source, one side will be illuminated while the other will remain dark. The dark side, ha… It's actually the dark side that came first since it's the absence and the light side a presence. Just like many people mistakenly believe that black is a colour when in fact it's the absence of a colour. He leaned a bit closer to examine the crease from another angle when he got elbowed. He straightened up and glared at Cameron who was giving him an evil eye of her own. Whoops…But, honestly… did she really expect him to pay attention?

"When was the last time you went on a date? Spending days cuddled up on a couch is great, but a change of pace every now and then will do you good. Go on a dinner date even if there is no special occasion. Try something new and explore it together, find some hobbies that you both enjoy," Ai suggested before Christian continued.

"At the same time, it's also important that you don't spend every single minute together because no matter how much you love your spouse, for the lack of a better expression… you will get sick of them. Everyone needs some time on their own to process their thoughts. It's also important that you have some hobbies and friends that are yours alone. An occasional guy's or girl's night out is great for reliving stress. We'll trust you to take care of that part on your own; what we will do today, is a different kind of fun."

Christian started handing out mini whiteboards and markers while Ai explained the exercise, "Today we'll have a quiz on how well you know each other. We'll first ask the wives a question and they will write it down on the whiteboard. The husbands will at the same time write down what they think the wife answered. And then we will reverse the roles."

Once all the white boards were distributed, Christian began, "We'll start with an easy one: You're driving a car while your partner is giving you instructions. Soon, you find out that you are lost. What are you most likely to say? A: I thought you knew how to get there; B: It's ok. We enjoyed the drive anyway; C: I should have paid attention. When we made that left turn, I wanted to ask you about it but I didn't. My fault."

This one was a tossup between B and C. He couldn't imagine that she would be angry with him for something meaningless as that and she did have a habit of apologising for everything she did even if it wasn't technically her fault. C it is then.

However, when Allison raised her board, it bore the letter A.

"You'd never say that," House complained.

Cameron raised her eyebrows. "I wouldn't bask in me being right and you wrong after you'd probably spend the whole ride explaining how women have poor spatial intelligence and orientation skills? Of course I would."

House glared at her. _Ok, maybe she did have a point._

When the question was reversed, the answer was more than clear for both of them.

The next question was, "You have been wandering around lost in the desert all day when you suddenly see a village in the distance. You also notice an oasis not too far away. Where do you decide to go?"

After House correctly guessed that she'd go to the village she was left to decide what he would do. In truth, not much deciding was needed as it was an easy equation. Village equals people and oasis equals no people. Her reasoning proved to be correct.

"Imagine you're walking by a seaside. How many people are around you and how far away are they?"

He knew she was a people person, that was a given. However, he saw her as someone enjoying the company of a few chosen people that she trusted more than a group of strangers.

"Not many and they are close by."

He was right. It was good to know that he could still read her after the previous miss.

When her time to answer came, she was sure that she would be right in thinking that there would be little or no people and if any, they would be far away but his answer was…

"A bunch of half naked models, preferably in my lap. Leg hurts, can't do much walking," he added as an explanation.

Cameron shook her head. She really should have known better.

"If you could take only one thing with you on a desert island, what would it be?"

That was a tough one and he had to admit that he was clueless. His answer, a library of books, was probably a good guess, only if her answer wasn't: Greg.

"Oh, so now I'm a _thing_?" he pouted. "You know, I think this counselling is not working as it's supposed to. All it did, was make you meaner," he complained and she simply laughed, writing down her next answer: Vicodin.

That one was just too easy. While they were engaging in another round of bickering, they were interrupted by a sudden outburst of shouting coming from a couple in the corner.

"I don't care about her, I've told you that before and I'm not cheating on you," the husband yelled.

"Oh? And is that why you shouted her name the last time we had sex?" the wife accused him.

House leaned into Cameron and whispered, "Uh oh. Too bad I didn't bring popcorn."

Cameron gave him a reprimanding look but stayed quiet. _Of course he'd be amused by other people's distress. _

"I told you that was a slip. It didn't mean anything," the husband defended.

"Or that your phone is full of her messages with meeting places?"

"Pfft, this guy is an amateur compared to Wilson," House quietly commented.

"You read my messages? That's an invasion of privacy!" the husband was appalled.

"What was I supposed to do if you keep lying to me!" the wife was getting desperate.

"50 bucks says they're divorced before the end of the month," House proposed while Cameron kept ignoring him.

"I'm not lying. You got this all wrong, it really isn't what it looks like."

"You know what," said the wife and stood up, "I don't even care anymore."

She stormed out of the room with her husband right on her trail, pleading with her to stop and listen.

"Well," said Christian once the drama was over, "this happens occasionally. Anyone else suspects their partner of cheating? If you have any pressing issues as this, it is important that we address them as soon as possible and in private."

He smiled encouragingly at the group and waited for an answer. When all remained quiet, he continued, "Sorry you had to hear that…"

"Are you kidding me?" House interjected, "That's the most fun I had in days."

"I'm glad that we were able to entertain you. Let's continue now, shall we? The next question is: which animal do you think you are the most similar to in character?"

Definitely something small and cuddly. Hm…

"A bunny rabbit?" she asked somewhere between upset and amused, when he disclosed his answer.

"What?" he shrugged and looked at her board, "Mrs. Big fish."

"Dolphins are intelligent and gentle creatures. And they're not fish, they're mammals," she defended her position.

"If it looks like a fish and swims like a fish, then it's a fish."

Cameron sighed. It was pointless arguing with him.

When his turn came to answer the question, she was equally amused by the answer.

"Lion?" she questioned.

"Yup, king of the jungle. Hear me roar," he answered with a smirk. "Why? What did you write down?"

She still didn't reveal her board and he was getting curious.

"Common, show me," he urged her.

Finally she did and she had to laugh at his expression.

"An ass? You think you're so clever, don't you?" he grumbled.

Cameron smiled at him with amusement. She was probably enjoying this too much but… _If you can't beat 'em, join 'em._

"You sure can be as stubborn as one," she said as a case in point.

There were several more questions before it came time for the last one, "Finish the following sentence: Love is… This time just write down your own opinion and then compare it with your partner's."

Neither was surprised when they saw each other's answers. One of life's pleasures vs. a chemical reaction. One would think that the answers could hardly be more different, yet if you examined them closely, you'd notice that there is no reason why both couldn't be true.

The time for homework assignments came and Ai immediately stressed that the no sex rule was still in play because they were still working on the emotional connection. Naturally, House complained but to no avail. The participants were also reminded that they should not forget what they've learned in the previous lessons and if possible, they should continue practicing some of the exercises whenever they had time. In addition to that, they were also given a special assignment: Go on vacation together for at least one day and spend the night there.

* * *

**A/N:** _I'm not exactly happy about how this chapter turned out but it will have to do. I'm pretty sure the next one will be better, though. It's vacation time! I already have a great idea about where they could spend it, I just need to explore the logistics but it should be fun. This time, I think there might be several chapters till the next session, I'll see how things go. _


	39. Tell me quando, quando, quando

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_Go, Netherlands, go! There shall be no stopping you this time. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 39 – Tell me quando, quando, quando**_  
(Month 2, Week 3)_

"Why won't you tell me where we're going?" House complained from the passenger seat when they left New Jersey behind them.

"Because it's a surprise," Cameron explained from the driver's seat.

"I bet it's a Hello Kitty amusement park," he tried to vex her to get a proper response.

"That _was_ my first choice but then I discovered that the nearest one is in Japan," she replied calmly.

Darn it. She was becoming more and more immune against his provocations. Just another downside of spreading his knowledge and skills. He'll have to think of another ways to get to her. Though, he had to admit that he liked this new-found confidence of hers and it was always good to have a decent sparing partner.

Deciding to drop the subject for the time being, he inquired, "I'm curious. How did you manage to convince Cuddy to give us three days off?"

Right after their last counselling session was over, Allison took full charge of vacation planning and she refused to tell him anything about it. Naturally, he was very curious, not to mention distrustful of her choice.

"I told her that we didn't have our honeymoon yet and that three days are the least she could give us given that we both have more than a month of vacation time left."

"And she said yes," he stated thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Well, she wasn't happy about it but it was out of her control," Cameron admitted with an undertone of defiance.

"You manipulated the hell out of her. I'm so proud of you," he grinned.

"I didn't…" Cameron started but then changed her mind, "Oh forget about it."

They were now on a narrow stretch of a road and she took the opportunity to look at him and smile widely.

"But you're still not telling me where we're going," he tried to catch her off-guard.

"No."

"Then wake me up when we get there," he commanded as he closed his eyes and got comfortable.

A couple of hours later they arrived at Long Beach Island and she instructed him to go buy a pair of swim trunks while she went to "take care of some business". He was sourly tempted to follow her and see what that business was but decided that he didn't want to spoil the surprise for her. Though, the way things looked; the wide expanse of the ocean and swimming equipment, it could only mean one thing and he was not looking forward to it. Crowded beaches, cripples and swim trunks didn't mix well. It's actually been years since he last went swimming.

After all, it seemed that he was right in being worried over her choice but for some reason he didn't want to just come out and say it and be the jerk who doesn't appreciate her efforts. If this was what she wanted, then he supposed he'll just have to find some subtle way to convince her otherwise.

As he met her back at the car, she was already lifting her bag from the trunk.

She smiled when she saw him approach and asked, "Ready?"

"I suppose I am," he replied as he slung his bag over his shoulder. They locked the car and were on their way.

It was 8 o'clock and the sky was already dark. It was actually quite nice; the half full moon, the scattered stars and several street lights illuminating the shore and reflecting in the ocean. The melodic hush of the waves as they hit the beach; you could almost taste the salt in the air.

It wasn't long before House discovered they were walking into a marina.

"Where are we going?" he asked her, obviously confused by their direction.

"Second boat on the right," she answered, pointing with her finger.

"You rented a yacht?" he asked, clearly in shock.

He'd known her for three years and she was still able to surprise him.

"Yup." She smiled.

As the distance between them and the yacht decreased, he observed that it looked quite nice and was of a decent size.

A thought occurred to him, "Can you even drive one?"

She smiled proudly. "I've got my licence and everything. Family friends had one and they lent it to us every summer for a week or two. At first, only my dad drove it but at some point my brother decided that he wanted to learn. And I couldn't let him have this one over me."

House shook his head. Maybe this vacation wouldn't be so bad after all.

They stopped in front of the yacht when House asked her, "How much did you pay for it?"

"$2500. Don't worry, I'll let you pay half," she said as she swiftly climbed on deck and after taking his bag, disappeared under it.

The interior was even nicer than she expected it to be. A kitchen with all the essential appliances, including a microwave and a coffee machine; a lounge area with small window openings a few feet above the sea level; a spotless bathroom and a bedroom with a large slightly rounded bed taking up most of the space and a medium sized sound system in a cabinet with glass doors.

When House caught up with her several seconds later, his first words were, "I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat on here?"

"They said the kitchen is fully stocked," she answered and gave him a push to get him going in the right direction.

After arriving in the kitchen and examining the contents of the cabinets and the fridge, Cameron asked, "What do you say about pasta with tuna?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll be upstairs, call me when it's ready," he announced.

"Just don't break anything or you'll be the one paying for it," she called after him while opening a can of tuna.

"The fact that you can drive a boat does not give you the right to boss me around," he yelled back before disappearing.

_**# # #**_

It was just after nine when House and Cameron finished with their dinner.

"So when do we sail out, Captain?" House inquired while observing Cameron who was doing the dishes.

"Tomorrow morning, it's a bit late today," she answered.

"Yeah, I'm tired. This packing and repacking has exhausted me," he complained. In truth, it was her who did most of the work but she was in too good of a mood to even try to correct him on that.

House limped into the bedroom and threw himself on the bed with Cameron following him as soon as she finished with the dishes. She was tired as well and longed for some rest and relaxation. Some relaxing music would be nice. She walked to the cabinet with the sound system and opened the doors. She opened the CD player more out of habit than anything, only to discover that there was a CD inserted.

"There's an Engelbert Humperdinck CD in here. Seems the previous renters forgot it," she commented.

"Probably some senior citizens who were too busy getting it on…" He cracked one eye open just in time to see her cringe.

To his horror, she placed the CD back in and pressed play. Almost immediately the room was filled with the gentle yet powerful voice of the singer. She walked over to the bed and lay down on her back next to House.

"We're on a yacht, in a comfy bed with a window showing a perfect picture of a starry night sky while listening to one of the crooners of the century. Are you trying to torture me?"

"Shhh… I'm trying to relax," she shushed him.

She heard a loud sigh and that's when she knew that he gave in. He was right, the entire situation was unbelievably romantic. Almost surreal in its own way. This could easily lead into trouble but she didn't care because it felt too good.

She was close enough to feel his warmth but she soon felt that it was not close enough. The urge to touch him got only stronger the more she tried to fight it, so she decided to go with it.

She took one of his hands that were resting on his stomach and placed it across hers. Holding it in place with her left hand, she used the right one to run it gently over the inside of his forearm, just barely touching his skin.

Her fingers travelled from his wrist to just above the inside of his elbow several times until they reached his palm. She gently massaged it with circular motions using her thumb until she reached his knuckles, when she switched back to using just the tips of her fingers to explore his palm.

He hummed contently and she turned her head to look at him, opening her eyes. His were closed and he had a peaceful expression on his face. She could tell by his slow and shallow breaths that he was completely relaxed and probably already drifting off. All bark and no bite. She smiled and closed her eyes.

This felt good. More than that, it felt perfect, she thought as she continued stroking his arm, intermittently using the tips of her fingers and her nails to trace patterns on his skin. And to think they haven't even set sail yet.

_Tell me when will you be mine  
Tell me quando, quando, quando  
We can share a love divine  
Please don't make me wait again_

_When will you say yes to me  
Tell me quando, quando, quando  
You mean happiness to me  
Oh my love, please tell me when_

_Every moment's a day  
Every day seems a lifetime  
Let me show you the way  
To a joy beyond compare_

_I can't wait a moment more  
Tell me quando, quando, quando  
Say it's me that you adore  
And then darling, tell me when_

_Every moment's a day  
Every day seems a lifetime  
Let me show you the way  
To a joy beyond compare_

_I can't wait a moment more  
Tell me quando, quando, quando  
Say it's me that you adore  
And then darling, tell me when  
Oh my darling, tell me when  
My darling, tell me when_

_

* * *

_**A/N: **_Most people would bring up dear Engelbert just to make fun of his name. Ironically, it's not even his real one, just his stage name. And he's not a crooner but a very talented singer whose voice spans several octaves. Yes I like him and "Quando, Quando, Quando" happens to be one of my favourites. There will be no mocking of Mr. Humperdinck when I'm around. _

_The next chapter will be part two of the "honeymoon". _:)


	40. Goddess of dawn and childhood memories

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I did mean to post this yesterday but then the chapter got insanely long and I couldn't divide it in two until the entire chapter was written. Oh and I needed a couple of hours to mope around after the football match yesterday… Eternally second…At least they are consistent._

_Need to clear up a mistake from the previous chapter: Long Beach Island is in New Jersey, which is a state and Princeton is a town in said state. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 40 – Goddess of dawn and childhood memories**_  
(Month 2, Week 3)_

The first thing House noticed when he opened his eyes, was that it was already morning and he was still lying on the bed fully clothed. He blinked a couple of times to adjust his vision to the morning sun coming through the window above their bed. He was sprawled in a rather uncomfortable position with his left arm still cast across Allison's stomach. The CD must have stopped playing hours ago.

He turned on his side and pulled back his hand. The movement seemed to wake her up as she slowly opened her eyes and looked at him.

She smiled widely when she met his eyes and mumbled, "Good morning."

He placed his right palm on her stomach and responded sleepily, "Morning."

He had no idea how a person could look so beautiful right after waking up. Her smile, her warm eyes, her soft skin; she could have put Aurora, the goddess of dawn, to shame.

His hand slipped under her T-shirt and he began caressing the warm skin he found there. Her breathing changed almost imperceptibly when he leaned closer and began placing kisses on her neck. She let him continue until he reached her cheek and then pushed him away.

Her voice was slightly breathless when she told him, "You know we can't. The rules…"

"The rules are bogus," he interrupted her, "And it's not like the entire program will fail just because we breached one, one time."

She got into a sitting position and put some distance between them. "You can't know that. Besides, you said you would follow the program fully, no exceptions."

He raised himself on his forearms and looked her straight in the eye. "You know, I can give you at least…5 _medical_ reasons why guys need sex several times per week and according to my calendar, it's been too long."

She paused a little and then answered, "I'm sure you'll be able to find a solution for that problem."

She stood up and walked to the door. "I'll go make us some breakfast and then we can start the engines," she informed him before walking out.

House groaned and plopped back on his back, covering his face with a pillow.

_**# # #**_

They spent most of the day just cruising around with the exception of a short break for lunch. Of course, the cruise would not be complete without House's rendition of "I'm the king of the world." scene from Titanic upon which he claimed that he had never seen that abomination and that the act was purely a result of his imagination and nothing else.

Mid-afternoon came when the heat of the sun became pleasantly warming instead of scorching and Cameron stopped the yacht to sunbathe. They were a fair distance from the shore and the Long Beach Island seemed as nothing more than a serpent peeking from underneath the sea while any other boats were nothing but specks in the distance. House wouldn't be House if he hadn't objected to the idea but he soon rethought his position after Cameron slipped out of her T-shirt and shorts to reveal a red-grey bikini. As an added benefit, his leg seemed to appreciate the added warmth as it hurt much less than usually.

An hour went by, when House decided he could use some refreshment.

He stood up from the towel that was placed in the middle of the bow and asked Cameron, "Wanna go for a swim?"

She opened her eyes and immediately used a hand to shield them from the intruding sunlight. "Are you crazy? There are sharks out there."

"There's no sharks…" he answered condescendingly.

"There could be," she protested.

He shook his head in disbelief at her attitude. "Shoulda, woulda, coulda. The chance of one straying in this corner of the ocean and mistaking me for his next meal is microscopic. Besides, I sure as hell didn't let you drag me half way across the state just to _watch_ the ocean."

Without further ado, he climbed over the rail and unceremoniously dived into the water with a big splash. She quickly rushed to the rail to see if he was ok only to hear him yell at her, "Come on, the water is great."

She hesitated a bit longer and then joined him with a perfect head dive.

As soon as she reached the surface, she was rewarded with a heavy splash of water.

"Hey!" she cried out, once she got the water out of her mouth.

"Wasn't me. Must have been one of those sharks. I hear they are particularly mischievous at this time of year," he teased her.

She tried to return the favour but only succeeded in sprinkling him with a few droplets to which he responded by laughing and quickly swimming away with a crawl.

"Jerk!" she called after him.

She wasn't angry with him. She actually enjoyed this playful side of him, since it was rarely that she saw him this uninhibited. At first, she wasn't sure if this vacation idea was wise. He needed the medicine, the cases, the puzzles and out there, there was nothing to distract him. But as it turned out, he was now more relaxed than she ever saw him. It seemed that he enjoyed a good timeout just as any other person and she was more than glad that she was there, enjoying it with him.

She caught up with him and they engaged in another splashing battle which made her think back to her childhood when life was still perfect and easy and her biggest worry was to wake in time to see her favourite cartoons on weekends. When was the last time she truly forgot about all of her worries and obligations and simply allowed herself to be childish and goofy? She couldn't even remember.

Tired from the battle (and after she admitted her defeat) they turned on their backs and used the natural buoyancy to keep themselves afloat with just minor corrections when needed. A perfect sensory deprivation; with their ears submerged, all they could hear were suppressed sounds that seemed as if they came from another galaxy. Their eyes were closed and the water surrounding them only added to the surreal feeling, creating an illusion that they were flying in an endless space. The only thing keeping them in touch with reality was the occasional touch of their fingers. At least until…

Cameron opened her eyes and saw his peaceful unsuspecting expression and just had to use the opportunity to carry out her revenge. As quietly as possible, she changed her position and then pounced on him, effectively submerging both of them.

"Now we're even," she informed him as they resurfaced and he started coughing from the sudden intrusion of water into his windpipe.

When he stifled the coughs enough to be able to speak, he threatened her, "I should sue you. With the money I'd make, I bet I'd be able to afford myself one of these," he said, referring to the yacht.

She laughed as he started swimming back to the boat. Reaching the yacht, he grabbed hold of the ladder and then waited for her to catch up.

As soon as she did, he complained, "I think I swallowed a fish."

She got up close to him and placed her arms around his neck to keep herself afloat.

"Fish are good for you, lots of omega-3 fatty acids," she said before kissing him.

* * *

**A/N: **_There's a thing called a sensory deprivation tank and it was actually used in that episode when House tried to remember what was killing Amber. That coffin looking thing with water in it. The way it works is that it eliminates (almost) all of the stimuli from the environment. This confuses the brain, which then tries to make sense of all of the internal information and consequently, hallucinations ensue. Using hallucinogenic drugs such as LSD or Ketamin increases the chance of hallucinations. Just thought I'd feed you some useless information…_

_Second part of this chapter will be up… Wednesday, maybe Thursday. That ok? _


	41. Breaking the rules

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_This one is for all the poor souls who are still in the middle of their exams and to all the unfortunate people labouring away at work in the middle of this heat. I really don't envy you. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 41 – Breaking the rules**_  
(Month 2, Week 3)_

_She laughed as he started swimming back to the boat. Reaching the yacht, he grabbed hold of the ladder and then waited for her to catch up._

_As soon as she did, he complained, "I think I swallowed a fish."_

_She got up close to him and placed her arms around his neck to keep herself afloat._

"_Fish are good for you, lots of omega-3 fatty acids," she said before kissing him._

She felt one of his arms wound itself around her body while the other firmly held the ladder to keep both of them above the surface. It's been a while since they kissed like that and she now realised how much she missed the feeling. Little droplets of water sliding down their faces made the kiss even more sensual.

Their lips parted and she looked at him. One of her arms slid around his neck and cupped his cheek and then she pulled him close once again.

That's when he decided to submerge them and when she came back to the surface, kicking and her arms flailing, she accused him, "You trying to drown me?"

"You punched me in the nose," he complained, rubbing his face.

"What did you expect when you pulled a stunt like that?"

"Get back here," he ordered and she swam back into his arms, even though warily.

He hugged her close to him and asked, "Do you promise not to start panicking again?"

She adjusted her hold on him as she agreed. Pressing his forehead against hers, he softly instructed her, "Take a deep breath."

As soon as she did, he pressed his lips firmly against hers and let go of the ladder. Slowly they sank bellow the surface and stayed there, holding each other tightly, until he felt her tug on him. A silent communication that she needed oxygen. He pulled them up and ended the kiss, while still remaining within an inch of her face. Their breaths mingled as they gasped for air.

When her breathing normalised, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips and then gave him the most amazing smile.

"And you claim that you're not a romantic," she nudged him and then swiftly climbed on the boat past him.

He was so distracted by the perfect view of her backside that he almost forgot to object.

"I'm not!" he yelled just before she disappeared out of sight.

When he found her again, she was back on the towel, relaxing.

He lay down next to her and closed his eyes, feeling the sun warming his body but he couldn't concentrate on that. His mind was distracted as he acutely felt her presence next to him and it was like a magnetic force made him turn his head and set his eyes on her once again. Just lying there in that skimpy bikini with water droplets sparkling in sunlight. How could any sane warm blooded guy not be affected? He did struggle to stay in his place, but that battle was lost before it even began.

He carefully rolled onto her and she immediately opened her eyes, placing her hands on his hips. They kept looking into each other's eyes until he closed in and kissed her. She instantly responded, her lips gently brushing against his. He ran the tip of his tongue against her lower lip and she granted him access. She let him continue his ministrations until he glided one of his hands down her waist when she pushed him away.

"I told you we can't…" she said in an entirely unconvincing tone.

"Forget about the rules," he mumbled before giving her another kiss.

"But…"

He kissed her again and then locked his eyes with hers. She slid her hands around his body and he could practically hear her wheels turning. He knew she would say yes, it was just a matter of time.

"There's people around here…" she feebly tried to protest.

He made a show out of looking around and then said, "Only if they're invisible."

She bit her lip nervously and that's when he knew he had her. The fact that she slid her hands just bellow the waistband of his trunks was only the confirmation he needed.

He met her lips and took his time exploring them before he opened his mouth and let his tongue join in. The feel of her wet warm skin against his was intoxicating and he couldn't help but use one of his hands to stroke her hip. Her hands slid up his back, holding him close.

When he trailed his lips down her neck, he felt her breathing accelerate and he could taste the salt on her skin. His hands travelled up her body and then underneath it, where he untied the strings of her bikini. He lightly slid the straps down her shoulders, each time following the path of his fingers with his lips. He met her lips once again, as he removed the garment from between their bodies.

As soon as her breasts were free from their confines, his mouth tasted the newly exposed skin, paying special attention to her nipples. He delighted in her harsh shaky breaths.

When he thought they received enough attention, his lips moved back to her mouth and his right hand trailed down her body, sliding over her bent leg.

As much as he enjoyed just kissing her, he knew he was loosing control. He needed more, so he hooked his fingers beneath her panties and pulled them off her legs with her help. When his body was back in full contact with hers, she began pulling on his swim trunks and he removed those as well, struggling a little.

When both were naked, he settled between her legs and then paused. He looked deeply into her eyes and saw the desire hiding there. To him, it didn't make any sense but that's something he would analyse another time. Right now, he was too caught up in everything that was her.

The next time their lips parted, his still lingering close to hers, he slowly entered her. She moaned and he thought it was beautiful. She locked her legs over his back when he started moving inside her. Slowly. And his lips yet again found hers. One of her hands found its way into his damp hair, caressing it gently and he was lost. Lost in her touch, her taste, her smell; in her sensual kisses and the way she clung to him…

She moaned again and he instinctively quickened his pace. He buried his face in her neck, trying to find just the right speed and angle. The next time she moaned, he knew that she liked that little rotation of his hips at the end and when she began moving with him, he couldn't help but groan himself.

Soon, her grip on his shoulders tightened and he knew she was close. He was beyond grateful for that because he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

She moaned, "Greg," just before her back arched and he felt her contract around him.

He kept on thrusting and groaned loudly when his own release came, never ceasing his movements until the last aftershocks of their orgasms washed over them.

They didn't move for a while, just trying to catch their breaths. Her hand was back in his hair, stroking it comfortingly. Several long moments passed until he lifted his face from her neck and looked at her. She was smiling at him and his lips automatically mimicked her gesture. He gave her a quick kiss before rolling off her and after lying next to her for a while longer, he suddenly stood up.

"I think I need another swim," he said before he jumped into the water without bothering to put his swim trunks on.

She laughed and then followed him, just as naked.

* * *

**A/N: **_Originally, I had no intention of writing another smut scene just yet, but the story wants what the story wants and who am I to…_

_I'm still deciding between two options for the next chapter but it should be up by the end of the week. _


	42. Tell me more

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_There's about 30°C/86°F in my room at any time, day and night, which does nothing at all to help my writing process or sleep, for that matter. I think my brain is starting to turn into mush… I should buy an AC or migrate to Australia for a month, hunt me some wombats...  
_

_(Mild relief today, but I hear it won't last long. What else is new…)_

_

* * *

_**Chapter 42 – Tell me more**_  
(Month 2, Week 3)_

Foreman and Chase were involved in an animated debate when Cameron walked in half past eight on Thursday morning. As soon as they noticed her, they became suspiciously quiet and she could feel their eyes on her as she walked over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"A bit late this morning," Foreman observed.

She turned around to face him, challenging him with her eyes. "I'm on time."

Foreman shrugged. "Not by your standards. You're always here by eight."

She took a sip of her coffee, taking her time with responding. "I decided to sleep in. Something wrong with that?" she finally answered.

"No, not at all. Just thought it was strange," he said, leaning back in the chair.

"Where's House?" Chase suddenly asked and she could distinctly hear the note of jealousy in his voice. Still, after all this time.

"At home, sleeping. He should be in in an hour or so," she replied as patiently as possible.

She knew this was coming, especially since they hadn't told the guys that they would be taking vacation. Most likely, Cuddy delivered the news to them, which didn't help the matter at all.

"So, how was the 'honeymoon'?" Foreman asked after a while, disturbing the awkward silence that descended upon the room.

He had that particular smirk on his lips. The one that said that he was highly amused by what he assumed was a disaster. His version of saying 'I told you so." without actually uttering the words. The one he reserved especially for her feelings for Greg.

"Great. It was great," Cameron answered as she quickly rinsed her now empty cup.

"Now if you excuse me, I'll go sort Greg… House's mail," she informed them, before walking into the adjacent room.

It was times like these that she wondered if it was really worth it, but thinking back to their vacation… oh yeah. It was more than worth it.

An hour and a half later, loud singing was heard approaching the Diagnostics' department. It was no other than House with his version of _Row, row, row your boat_. He entered the conference room at "merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily" and discarded his helmet, backpack and jacket on the table, right in front of Chase, for the grand finale of "life is but a dream."

In the mean time, Cameron had already walked into the room and poured him a cup of coffee. He joined her at the counter, leaning against it, while standing so close to her that their hips touched.

"Good morning, ducklings. Any cases on this lovely morning?" he asked cheerfully, which did nothing to elevate Foreman and Chase's confusion.

"No? Then I'll be in the clinic. Don't want the evil one to hunt me down and drag me in there. That's never pretty."

He placed his cup back on the counter and rested his palm on Cameron's lower back, brushing his thumb against the fabric of her shirt a couple of times before leaving. It was just a brief contact, barely noticeable, but more than enough to catch the boys' attention.

_**# # #**_

"House!"

House stopped in his tracks and waited for his friend to catch up with him. Glancing in his direction, he could just barely see a feminine shape with blonde strands of hair vanish behind a corner. It appeared James Wilson was back in the game. It never did take him long to move on.

Slightly out of breath, Wilson stopped next to him. "Hey. How was the honeymoon?"

"She rented a yacht," he told Wilson, still a bit disbelieving about this new side of Allison.

"Oh?" Wilson was just as shocked, "Well, that must have been fun."

"Are you kidding? The two of us alone, on a yacht, in the middle of the ocean, no one around for miles… It was _lots_ of fun," House exclaimed suggestively.

Wilson shook his head. "No wonder you're in such a good mood today."

House cringed. "Me? In a good mood? Why I never!"

Wilson smiled at his antics and then carried on contemplatively, "You do seem happier lately…"

"Just what are you implying? House challenged him.

"Nothing. Maybe this secret…"

"What secret?" Cuddy seemingly conjured herself up behind them out of nowhere.

How could she sneak up on them so quietly in those shoes? Usually, you could hear her angry staccato from miles away.

House pretended to be struggling whether or not to tell the truth, until finally he said with a sigh of resignation, "Wilson's pregnant."

He put his arm around the startled oncologist's shoulders and said in a tearfully proud voice, "We're gonna have a baby."

Cuddy placed her arms akimbo, staring House down. "Clinic duty. Now," she ordered.

"I was on my way, until Jimmy here, stopped me. He's afraid he's showing already and thought it would be better if we just told everyone the happy news," House explained, patting Wilson's stomach.

Wilson, who was a perfect image of embarrassment and unease, simply stood there, no doubt wishing that he were anywhere else.

"Now," Cuddy repeated.

House sighed and then walked away, leaving a still thoroughly distressed Wilson behind.

Cuddy turned to Wilson. "You too. You still owe me 3 hours this week."

He didn't even try to object but simply walked in the direction of the clinic.

_**# # #**_

Later that day, Wilson and Cuddy were at the nurses' counter, trying to solve the shortage of nurses in the Oncology department, when House and Cameron walked by. Immediately they caught Cuddy's attention and she zoned out of the discussion Wilson and Brenda were having. Noticing the sudden lack of her input, Wilson turned around and followed her gaze.

House and Cameron were on their way to the hospital cafeteria and were having a lively discussion. Cameron laughed at something House said and he smirked in return. With the easy air they had around them, they could have fooled anyone and Wilson suspected that a lot of people would regret placing bets on their marriage pretty soon, if they hadn't already.

"Thank you, Brenda," said Wilson.

"I'll do what I can but I'm no miracle worker," she replied and got on with her work.

"Something on your mind?" Wilson asked Cuddy.

She first thought about deflecting the question but she knew there was no fooling Wilson.

"They seem happy," she said with a tinge of sadness.

"I think they are happy," replied Wilson carefully.

Gauging House's mood wasn't the easiest thing in the world, but knowing him as long as he did, Wilson discovered one thing. Whenever House was truly happy, he didn't bother covering it up with his misanthropic demeanour. Whenever he was truly happy, he didn't care if the whole world saw it and judging by his arm around Cameron's shoulders, he couldn't care less what anyone thought of him that moment.

Cuddy sighed. "I just can't understand how…" She paused and then shook her head.

"Never mind," she said with a small smile before walking off.

* * *

**A/N: **_We're in the middle of renovating our house which means that in the next couple of days, we'll have a bunch of workers roaming around and making noise from the early hours of the morning. In case it takes a bit longer to update this time, that's probably why. _

_Next chapter: session no. 3. _


	43. Step 3

**Disclaimer: **_Nope. _

**A/N: **_I've acquired a beta, which means less mistakes and slower updates. Quality over quantity, or speed, as the case may be. I'll still be accepting any grammar unrelated complaints 24/7. As always. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 43 - Step 3: Let me in**_  
(Month 2, Week 4)_

"In the previous sessions, you've learned how to show your affection in a physical way, either by touch or by spending time together. Another important way to let your partner know how you feel is to tell them. It's true that actions often speak louder than words, but sometimes a person just needs that verbal confirmation. That's why you'll start today's session by telling your spouse that you love them," Ai explained.

"What if you're not a touchy-feely type of guy?" House objected.

Christian answered, "This is very important. Your partner needs to know that they are appreciated and loved. You can't simply sweep the issue under the carpet, saying that they must know it. Besides, you don't need to tell them every day if that's not your style, but you need to tell them every now and then."

House stared at the wall in annoyance. He never was the type of guy to distribute sweet words like candies on Halloween. Men don't do that. His father made damn sure he remembered that, and it stuck with him, for better or for worse.

"We'll start slowly today. If you're not comfortable telling your partner that you love them, then you can tell them that you like or appreciate them. Any positive words will do," Ai encouraged them.

Cameron turned to House, and her heart immediately started beating faster. What was she supposed to say? _I love you._ That will never do. _I like you._ She did like him, but it would only lead to trouble if he knew that. He probably already deduced it, but she wasn't about to confirm his suspicions. _I care about you._ She did. Always has. As a boss. As a co-worker. As a person who inspired her and made her grow. She cared about him as a person who knew her, without ever taking the time to get to know her, who made her smile even though it was never his intention and who always did what he had to, despite being the most unreliable person in the world.

"I care about you," she told him, and there was no mistaking the sheer honesty in her voice or her eyes.

House couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat. He might be a cold-hearted bastard … No, it was _because_ he was a cold-hearted bastard that such warmth did something to him.

He looked away in frustration and shifted slightly further away from Allison. What was he supposed to do? He used sweet words only sparingly, but when he used them, he meant them. He could lie and say he loved her. That was nothing to him. It was when the words were true that he got all choked up. And Allison …

"I care about you." He looked at her out of the corner of the eye when he said the words and then quickly looked away.

He did care about her. She was his girl, his Little Miss Sunshine, the one who was always at his side.

God, if this was what was called being in touch with your feelings, then he was right in avoiding it all these years.

The next task they were given was to name five things they liked about their partner. Unfortunately for House, only two were allowed to be physical. Giving out compliments, definitely not something he'd do either. Fortunately, Allison valiantly volunteered to go first.

"You're funny," she began, "smart, uh …"

"I'm offended. You should rattle out at least 10 of them in a heartbeat," House pouted.

"Wait," Cameron laughed, "I'm thinking."

"There's never a dull moment when you're around and …you're quite good looking," she said and blushed profusely.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" he asked with a smirk. A guy can't pass up a chance to go for an ego boost.

"Yes …" she admitted, unable to look him in the eye.

"One more. That was only four," House encouraged her, suddenly enjoying this task.

"You can be really cute sometimes," she said with a teasing smile.

"That's mean," he protested.

"It's true. Your turn," she reminded him.

_Here goes nothing_, thought House as he answered, "You're hot and you have a nice ass.…"

"You used up your bonus now," Cameron said with a smile.

House sighed. Introspection - one of the evils shrinks use to torture their patients.

"I like how you're not afraid to stand up to me and how, regardless of what I put you through, you're still willing to fight on my behalf and for me … and you're smart," he quickly added and then looked away.

Cameron lurched forward and kissed him on the cheek which did absolutely nothing to help him feel more comfortable and neither did her sparkling eyes. It only took this much to make her happy and he didn't know what to think of it.

When everyone was done, Christian spoke, "It is equally important that the partners trust each other. This is one of the reasons why you should let your partner know how you feel about them. If they know that they are loved and that you're there for them, they will more easily open up to you."

Ai took over, "Marriage is about sharing the burdens. It's about trusting your partner enough to tell him or her about your fears, problems and bad memories. It's about allowing them entrance to that deep dark secret place inside your soul and letting them shine a light into it."

Christian continued, "But this goes both ways. Both of you should learn to talk _and_ to listen. You should never push your partner but allow them to take their time. When they do open up to you, be supportive. Let them know that you understand how they feel and that you're there for them. Just knowing that can be enough. And, at the end, thank them for putting this much trust in you."

"There's one last exercise we want you to do today. We want you to tell your partner one secret. You can start with an innocent one like what you thought of them when you first met or when you fell in love with them.…"

House and Cameron looked at each other, not knowing what to do, until House decided to lie down on the mattress. Hesitating for only a moment, Cameron soon joined him.

Settling on his side, House asked her, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"

That was certainly not a question she'd expect from him, yet the answer was easy for her.

"No," she spoke.

"Really?" asked House as he propped up his head with his hand, "I thought you would be the first to…."

"Good things take time," she interrupted him with a warm smile.

"So it wasn't love at first sight with me?" he joked, although one could detect a hint of sincerity behind the question.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no," she answered lightly.

He pouted. "That hurts, you know."

She laughed and then stated, "It wasn't love at first sight from your point of view either."

"I thought you were hot from the moment I first saw you. Does that count?" he inquired hopefully.

She laughed again and turned her head into the mattress while placing her palm on his chest.

"So when was it? When did you decide I was worthy of risking a sexual harassment suit by blackmailing me into a date?" he asked more seriously, though still in a joking manner.

Cameron lifted her head and furrowed her brow. "Monster trucks," she finally revealed after a careful consideration.

"Why?"

She sighed, unsure about how much she should reveal to him. "I saw the other side of you. The care-free, easy-going side that wasn't afraid to laugh and enjoy life. I liked it."

Maybe it really was that simple.

"I rethought the idea of inviting you a hundred times over. Even while asking you. Even after I had already asked you," he admitted.

"Why?" she breathed, caught off-guard by his honesty.

"I was sure you'd brush me off." There was a brief moment of vulnerability reflected in his eyes before he quickly added, "That would be bad for my ego… and reputation."

Their moment was interrupted by Christian, who spoke, "I'm afraid we only have a few more minutes left, so we need to end it here. I think you'll all be happy to hear that the sex ban is lifted."

The few downcast eyes didn't go unnoticed by him. He smiled.

"If any of you failed to upkeep that rule, that's ok. The ban was not to prohibit physical intimacy but to teach you how sex can be more than just a physical act. It can also represent an emotional connection between the partners and that's what we're after. That is why until the next week, each of you should reveal a secret to your partner. Something important that shaped your life which you never told them before. And don't forget to let your partner know that you care about them, after the confession as well as every once in a while, just to reassure them."

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm actually satisfied with this chapter, which happens about once in a blue moon. _

_There was a study done by a psychologist Arthur Arun. He had people who never met each other before reveal very intimate details about their lives for half an hour and then they stared silently into each other's eyes for four minutes. Most reported finding their partner very attractive and one couple even got married. (Taken from: __This book has issues, Adventures in Popular Psychology__ by Jarrett and Ginsburg) Now you know what to do or not to do._

_I know that the monster trucks thing is so cliché but, well… *shrugs* I just find it extremely cute how nervous he was when asking her out. _


	44. Sakura Blossoms

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_To all the sensitive souls out there: You might want to grab a box of Kleenex. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 44 – Sakura Blossoms**_  
(Month 2, Week 4)_

House was sitting behind his piano, his fingers tracing random melodies and parts of songs. Never before had he played in front of her. . . . Sometimes, when she came home late, she would find him behind the piano, but he would stop as soon as she entered the door. Other times, she heard him play late at night when he thought she was already fast asleep in bed. Perhaps he thought of this as something private, something he didn't want to share with other people, or perhaps he didn't want her to read too much into the fact that he was playing while she was there.

She was reading a book on the couch and he was watching TV on mute until he turned it off and walked over to the piano. She was surprised when he started playing, but she didn't let him see that as she continued to read her book. It was soothing; the simple melodies creating a tranquil undercurrent to her novel.

Suddenly she felt something shift, and it took her a couple of moments until she realised that he had made a seamless transition from lively melodies to something much more morose that perfectly mirrored the atmosphere of regret and longing in her book.

The novel now lay forgotten in her lap as she observed him playing this hauntingly beautiful tune. Her breath caught in her throat. Such beauty and sadness. It felt as if the song entered her being, resonating in all those dark recesses within her soul. And the concentrated look on his face; full of melancholy. He was in a different place, a different time. She could feel that through the music and she felt almost like an intruder, transgressing on something sacred.

When the song ended, he kept his hands resting on the keys, his eyes downcast.

"What's it called? That song," she asked, still deeply in awe.

"Sakura Sakura," he answered before catching her eyes.

"It's a traditional Japanese song," he explained as he lifted his hands from the keys and placed them on his thighs.

"It sounded so sad," she commented reverently, "What's it about?"

"Sakura is Japanese for Cherry Blossom." He covered the keys with the fallboard and walked over to sit next to her on the couch.

"Sakura trees are an important part of Japanese culture. There's a bunch of them growing all over the country. They bloom in spring, and since most of them are some shade of pink, you'll have these huge clouds of pink all over the place." He cringed as he looked at her. The first time in a while, and she smiled at him.

"They don't bear fruit and they only bloom for a week or two, depending on the weather. For an entire year, there would be nothing, but for two weeks' time, the tree would be covered with these delicate pink flowers. And every time the wind would blow, the air would be covered with a pink mist until they'd land on the ground, creating a blanket covering the earth."

"You almost sound like you've been there." It was more of a question than a statement.

"My dad was stationed in Okinawa when I was about 14. We were there for less than a year. It was Sakura season when he was redeployed to South America, quite ironic, now that I think about it."

She gave him a puzzled look, so he explained, "Because of their short blooming time, Sakura blossoms are a symbol for transience of life. They represent the cyclical nature of everything and the bitter-sweet feeling that comes with change," he paused and looked at her, reading her reaction.

"It must have been difficult for you, never being able to settle," she said and he couldn't miss the compassion in her voice.

This was not what he wanted from her. He didn't need her pity.

"That's life. Nothing you can do about it," he said bitterly.

He picked up the remote control, about to end the conversation, when he changed his mind. He sighed heavily as he continued, "It was difficult because I never knew how long we'd stay. Even if he knew, he wouldn't tell me. Thought it was more exciting that way."

House knew she must be wondering who _he_ was, but she kept quiet. Maybe she guessed it.

"I felt lost. Didn't know where the hell I belonged. The only people I knew were my parents and they . . . Well. . . . As soon as I'd get used to the new environment, learn the language, maybe make a few friends, we'd move and I had to start all over again."

He paused, staring heavily at the floor.

"When I was a kid, I kind of liked it since everything was always new and exciting, but then I gradually started hating it as I grew older. _The only constant is change._ Not much of a consolation."

She sensed his anger and placed her palm on his shoulder to comfort him. He looked at her expectantly.

"It wasn't your parents' fault. They just wanted to keep the family together."

So naïve. If only she knew. . . . Well, there was no reason why he shouldn't tell her.

"Don't embellish him. He was a selfish bastard. He didn't take us with him for our sake but for his. His little picture-perfect family. A wife who would cook for him, clean up after him and roll on her back whenever he wanted her to."

He froze as a realisation struck him.

"_House, you can't do this."_

"_Already done," said House still smirking. _

"_You can still call the whole thing off, get the marriage annulled," Wilson suggested with slight panic in his voice. _

"_Why would I do that? I told you she'll be doing my clinic duty for 7 months plus I'll get a free hooker, maid and personal chef all in one till then."_

Ha. Maybe he was more like his father than he was willing to admit. The indoctrination paid off and he was a spiting image of him after all. His hatred for him only burned hotter.

"And I . . . I was just his trophy boy. He'd be constantly on my back, making sure that I did everything exactly right. What _he_ considered to be right. And if I failed . . ."

His voice faltered and he shuddered as he was flooded with memories from his childhood. He felt he was on the verge of tears.

"_Men don't cry_," he heard his father's voice echo inside his head.

_He fell off his bike when he was 10. The crimson colour of blood intermingled with small pebbles and dirt on the gravel road._

_His father grabbed him by the elbow and half-dragged him inside. He threw him on the kitchen chair while he rummaged in the cupboards for a bottle of alcohol. When he found it, he poured it on his wound without preamble and, as he started crying and struggling, his father held him down fast as he poured more of it on his wounded knee. He then scraped down the dirt using a kitchen cloth. _

_When he was finished, he ordered him to stop crying. He wanted to, he really did, but he couldn't stop the sobs wracking his body. _

_He was told to hold out his hands as his father took the birch twig that was lying conveniently in the corner._

His voice didn't tremble because he was afraid and his throat didn't sting because he was weak. It was pure, unrefined hatred. Most people believe that you can only cry out of sadness or happiness. What they don't know is that you can also cry out of hate. The all-consuming kind that burns inside you like a bonfire and blurs the line between wrong and right. Its sheer intensity makes you tremble, and all you can do is try to contain that heat, and stop it from destroying everything in its wake.

House clenched his shaking fists and took several deep breaths, trying to regain the control of his voice.

"If I failed, he'd make me pay, over and over again until I learned my lesson. But nothing I ever did was good enough for him. He'd just keep raising his bar higher and higher and it never ended," he said through gritted teeth as hot tears stung in his eyes. He swallowed thickly.

"I hate him," he managed to choke out before he looked at her.

He could just catch a glimpse of her tear-stained cheeks before she took him in her arms.

Her hand immediately started softly stroking his hair and he wound his arms around her, burrowing his face in her neck. She felt his shivers against her body and his sharp intakes of air as he struggled to breathe. She also felt just the smallest trace of moisture on her neck where his head rested.

_Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,  
Blanketing the countryside,  
As far as you can see.  
Is it a mist, or clouds?  
Fragrant in the morning sun.  
Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms,  
Flowers in full bloom. _

_

* * *

_**A/N: **_"The only constant is change" is a saying by Heraclitus, a Greek philosopher._

_You can find "Sakura Sakura" on YouTube, even some piano renditions, but there's many songs with the same name (and a certain anime character *cough*). The lyrics at the end are from the song. _

_We actually have a Sakura tree in our garden and the term ephemeral beauty is what comes to mind. It has bright pink blossoms. I can only image what a whole forest of these would look like. _


	45. Reasons

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I planned to go straight to the next session, but then I was told, or should I say ordered, to also write Cameron's story. *glares* So, here's another depressing chapter. You've been warned. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 45 - Reasons**_  
(Month 2, Week 4)_

Cameron was lying in bed, waiting for House to join her. She could hear the intermittent bursts of water as he was going through his evening routine. The light from the bathroom painted an imperfect triangle inside the bedroom door.

It was an emotional day yesterday. She could still hardly believe that he opened up to her so much. Not that he trusted her with any details, but it was still more than she could ever hope for. And it explained a lot of things. If his father abused him, then it wasn't a surprise that he was afraid to trust people. She felt sorry for him. He'd hate her for it, but she did. No one should go through that.

It was her turn now. She knew that. And she was beyond nervous. House could be a good listener, even one who offers support. But he could also take advantage of the freely provided information just to throw it back in your face. The worst part was that you never knew which it would be. Even though he treated her well these past few months, she was still loath to provide him with more ammunition. If nothing else, who knew what would become of them once the seven months were up?

The bathroom light was turned out with a click and the door softly creaked before he turned up in the bedroom. Throwing his cane onto a nearby chair, he limped over to his side of the bed and climbed under the covers. She was on pins and needles.

"I was lucky," she began, and he immediately stopped fussing with the covers.

"My Dad was a History professor at a local high school. Still is . . . and not looking forward to the retirement," she said with a smile, while staring at the ceiling.

"My Mom's a psychologist and works as a school counsellor at an Elementary school. They're both intelligent and educated. As far as I can remember, they never had anything more than a minor disagreement between them and they always talked everything through. I suppose they're what you'd call a perfect couple."

She turned her head towards House and saw that he was listening to her intently. She looked back at the ceiling. It was much easier to share your life story with the empty expanse of the room, than to face him.

"I've got an older brother – Jason, though he always insisted that we call him Ace. After a while, we stopped objecting, and went along with it. We still call him Ace now. He was always up to no good and must have been a handful when he was young. Or so my parents used to say. But he was always there for me when I needed him. He's now happily married and has a 2-year-old daughter."

She paused before continuing, "We had picnics and birthday parties and we'd go swimming and camping. Everything you'd expect from a regular family."

It was probably not easy for Greg to have to listen to her fairy-tale childhood, but she needed to build up to what she really wanted to tell him. She took a deep breath.

"And then my brother went to college and a few years later, it was my turn. I struggled to adjust without the immediate support of my family in the beginning, but I soon started to enjoy it. And in my second year, I met Mathew. I didn't quite know what to do with myself back then; I planned to go to med school, but I often wondered if it was the right thing for me. Mathew was 2 years older than me and had his goals set in stone. He wanted to be a doctor, nothing else. I suppose I was taken by his certainty and found it comforting. He was also a bit of a joker and a great story teller. I always laughed when I was around him."

House kept quiet the whole time which she found reassuring. No easy snide remarks from his side. Yet.

"We became good friends, but it was only after five months that he told me he had cancer. I couldn't believe it. . . ."

She shook her head against the pillow. Her silky tresses rubbed against the fabric, creating a rustling sound.

"He was one of the happiest people I knew. Always the one who helped others without regard for himself and it wasn't fair."

Even after all these years, she still couldn't help but be sad when thinking about how some people never got a chance to experience happiness in their lives.

"He was placed into foster care when he was a baby and he never met his parents or any of his relatives. His entire childhood was spent between different foster parents and foster homes. Still, he was the kindest person I knew, and the most reliable. And then he was diagnosed with cancer. Why?" she breathed out as she looked at House.

He ignored her question and said instead, "So you decided to marry him." It was an honest question. At least as honest as he was capable of being.

"He had no one in the world. This kind, funny, gentle person who never hurt anyone. Life shouldn't be like this. It's the evil ones who should suffer, not the good people. I had everything I could wish for and more while growing up; he had nothing. The least I could do was show him some love, even though he deserved much more than I could ever give him."

Tears were falling freely down her cheeks now, wetting her pillow and her hair.

It's been a while since she cried for him. _Too long_, she thought to herself.

That was the only time in her life that she had a huge fight with her family. She didn't blame them. All they wanted was what was best for her. They told her it wasn't worth it; willingly setting herself up for so much pain. She was still so young, just turned 21, and this would scar her for life. The night before the wedding . . . if you can call it that; her brother was there with her, persuading her the entire night not to go through with it. She didn't listen. She couldn't listen.

Mathew was in love with her. She knew that. A girl always knows. So she married him and it was all worth it when he told her those 6 months were the happiest times in his life a day before he died. She had no regrets.

"I knew it. He was just your charity project." There was no malice in House's voice, but the words still cut into her heart.

She turned on her side in a flash, looming above his form, her eyes burning with intensity he'd never seen before.

"Don't. For once in your life: just don't. I didn't marry him out of pity; I married him because I cared about him. I told you there are many kinds of love and I _did_ love him. So what if it wasn't the all-consuming type you see in the movies? That doesn't make it meaningless. I wished I loved him like that. You have no idea how I wanted it, but you can't make yourself feel something you don't, no matter how much you want it."

House turned his head the other way, staring out of the window, before he answered, "You can say whatever you want, but you wouldn't have married him if he wasn't dying. He _was_ your first charity case and you wanted to make me your second."

Her anger suddenly dissipated, turning into something much more painful.

"You're wrong," she whispered after a moment, "I wanted you for purely selfish reasons."

She turned on her side, facing away from him.

* * *

**A/N:** _There's been a lot of talk about what Cameron's childhood was like. All I can say is that psychology is not an exact science and with the limited amount of data we got from the show, there are many viable alternatives. Since this is a happy-ish story, I opted for a positive one. There's too much suffering to deal with as it is. _


	46. Step 4

**Disclaimer:**_ Nope. _

**A/N: **_Sorry about the wait. _:(

* * *

**Chapter 46 – Step 4: Honey, We Need To Talk**_  
(Month 3, Week 1) _

"Communication is very important," said Christian, "We've already learnt that it plays an important role in getting to know your partner. You should talk about silly things as likes and dislikes as well as share the details of your day with your spouse; it's something that will bring you closer."

House observed Cameron out of the corner of his eyes. She was still tense . . . distant. . . . Ever since she told him about her husband. But that wasn't his fault. . . . He spoke the truth, and the worst anyone could accuse him off was a lack of tact, and that was hardly an issue. Well, at least it shouldn't be.

"It's also important to share your secrets and talk about what troubles you, because that will help establish trust between the two of you. Letting your partner know how you feel about them will reassure them and make for a warm, comfortable atmosphere in your relationship."

She still talked to him, but it seemed forced. Not that it bothered him. Not at all. He was, however, still in the dark about her response to him.

"_You're wrong. I wanted you for purely selfish reasons."_

It kept popping up in his head, and it was driving him crazy. He couldn't really ask her what she meant by it. Not that it wasn't obvious.

"As important as it is to talk about the positives, it is equally important to talk about the negatives. The worst thing you can do is to ignore an issue and let it fester. What usually happens is that issues pile up until the whole thing boils over. I call this 'the snowball effect'. And that is why it's important to talk about the problem as soon as it occurs."

House smirked. Conflict resolution; how was that for irony? Well, _she_ clearly didn't appreciate it since she still sat upright as the Statue of Liberty and sported a rather unbecoming frown.

"_I wanted you for purely selfish reasons."_

He rubbed his palm harshly across his forehead. Now _that_, that wasn't funny anymore. _Selfish reasons_. . . . Even if he believed her, it didn't really matter anymore, since it was a thing of the past. Right? And even if she did still have some feelings for him and if it just happened that it wasn't pity, although that was very unlikely in itself, then it was still a moot point since he didn't have any feelings for her. Right? Damn right.

"You may think that fights are unavoidable," said Ai, "but it doesn't necessarily have to be so. . . ."

"Studies show that married couples who fight live longer," House contributed, attracting several curious glances.

"That's true, Dr. House," said Ai with a smile, "but that only confirms that the stress of holding your emotions inside is harmful. While venting may have a more positive effect on you, you should also consider how it affects your partner. Of course, discussing conflicts should be a part of every relationship, but there is a right way and a wrong way to do it."

House kept quiet as Christian continued, "There are certain ground rules that should be followed at all times, such as: keeping your voice down and taking a break if the discussion gets too heated, trying to solve only one conflict at a time, avoiding personal attacks, one person speaks at a time, not judging your partner, but listening to them, and trying to understand their point of view. There are a few others that we will cover during today's exercise, but what you should keep in mind is that no one is always right. Sometimes you'll get what you want and sometimes, your partner will, but most often it will be some sort of a compromise. You have to realise that you are not alone in this, which means that you'll occasionally have to give away one thing to win another."

Each couple was given two cards with conflicts that they were supposed to act out. House warily glanced at the first one:

_**Conflict No.5**_

_Your spouse buys a new TV set/dinnerware without consulting you, even though you previously agreed to save money for a new car that you desperately need. _

_You: Honey, we need to talk. You have bought a new TV set/dinnerware, even though we do not have enough money for such luxuries. This makes me upset, because we agreed to save up for a new car._

_Your spouse: I understand how you feel, but we did talk about getting a new TV set/dinnerware at some point and it was on sale._

_You: It was on sale? How much did it cost?_

_Spouse: (tells a reasonable price)_

_You: You are right, that is a reasonable price and I understand why you bought it, however, I still think a new car should be our priority._

_Spouse: I suggest we keep a separate account for car expenses, and both of us make equal monthly deposits, the same way we do with household expenses. As much money as we have left, we'll be allowed to spend however we want._

_You: That is a good suggestion. I'm glad that we were able to solve the issue._

_Spouse: I am glad too, and the next time I buy anything this expensive, I will tell you beforehand._

_You: Thank you. I appreciate it. _

House shook his head. This felt like he was in a special ed class. And there was still a whole hour left. . . .

_*several minutes later* _

"Dear, we need to talk. I don't like how you're always flirting with other women. It makes me feel unwanted and inadequate."

"When have I flirted with another woman?" House read his part of the text from the card.

Cameron responded with her part, "Yesterday, when you were talking to Michelle."

"I understand how that could upset you, but I also don't like how you look at _Bobby_."

"It does not say Bobby," Cameron interjected, leaning over to check House's card.

He moved it out of her reach and said, "Stay in character."

When she kept leaning over, he added, "I changed it for the sake of verisimilitude."

Cameron frowned, but moved away nevertheless.

House relaxed a little. She seemed to be warming up towards him again. It's not that he cared what she thought of him, but it made his life much easier if she wasn't pissed of at him. It was practical, that was all.

"I admit I was angry at you, and I was wrong in trying to make you jealous instead of talking to you," she read.

"Thank you. I shouldn't have put you in that position, but did you see that low cut blouse she had on yesterday?" House asked her enthusiastically, once again reinterpreting the text.

"Greg. . . ." Cameron chastised him, though one could see a slight twinkle in her eyes and a twitch at the corners of her mouth.

House ignored her and continued, "Seriously. And that pencil skirt. . . . I have no idea how she managed to squeeze her badonkadonk inside it. Naturally, I had to stare at it since it looked like it would tear at the seams any minute."

Cameron burst out laughing, attracting several glances much to her embarrassment. House smirked; one for the home team.

_*several minutes later* _

House reluctantly reached out for another card. It read:

_**Conflict No. 3**_

_You think your partner doesn't appreciate you and your contributions to the relationship enough. Let them know how this makes you feel and try to find a solution. _

That was that; they were flying solo this time. No more guidelines; they were supposed to solve the conflict on their own and in front of the entire "class". Oh joy.

"Darling, I think we need to talk," he started sweetly.

"I'm listening," Cameron replied, and he could see that she was a bit nervous about the whole performing in front of the class thing.

"I don't feel appreciated enough in this relationship. I don't like that you take me for granted and never thank me for anything I do in the household like vacuuming, washing the dishes, taking care of the groceries. . . . It makes me feel unwanted and unloved," House said seriously, while Cameron struggled to contain a grin. Of all the possible situations. . . .

She was about to respond, when House jumped in, "It really hurts me. In here." He tapped his chest and made a sad face.

Cameron couldn't resist laughing, and House turned towards Ai and Christian with an affronted face as he complained, "See what I have to put up every day?"

They both smiled at him, reading into his act.

"Sorry," Cameron choked out, "I didn't realise I was _ignoring_ your contributions. Thank you for letting me know how it made you feel, and I'll try to be more conscious of your efforts in the future."

There was laughter in her voice, as well as several laughs from their audience who must have realised the absurdity of the situation.

"Now about the feeling unloved thing. . . ." started House.

"Yes?" Cameron prompted him with an amused smile.

He grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her closer. She instinctively leaned in as he dipped his head and kissed her.

"And then we have hot make-up sex," he concluded as their lips parted.

Several people clapped and House theatrically bowed.

_*after several more and less successful performances of other couples and a long analysis of the situations*_

"This concludes today's session. Since next time will be our last, we want you to discuss with your partner how much your relationship has changed since you started this workshop, and how far you have come. Do you know your partner any better? Do you trust them more? Is it easier to show your affection for him or her, and tell them how you feel? How do you like these changes?"

* * *

**A/N: **_There is an article on LiveScience with the title "Spouses Who Fight Live Longer", and it quotes a real study, so that's something to think about._

_I was kind of stumped with this chapter, because let's face it, conflict resolution IS a boring topic. Boring, yet essential. So I threw in a joke or two . . . bashed some Cuddy . . . desperate measures, I know. Hope it wasn't too bad. _


	47. Non Sequitur

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_Yet more angst. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 47 – Non Sequitur**_  
(Month 3, Week 1)_

_We are nearer loving those who hate us than those who love us more than we wish. - __François de la Rochefoucauld_

They were rapidly approaching the half-way mark, which naturally meant that things would get more intense. From her side, at least. He didn't care either way. That was, he didn't care until she started pushing too much. Which was happening a lot lately. It was all fun and games as long as it was all fun and games, but once she started pushing, it felt too much like a real relationship. Torture, in other words.

They arrived home, and he immediately plopped down on the couch. He was exhausted. This whole thing was really starting to drain on him. She did lighten up a bit today, but he wondered how long that would last. Emotions were running high . . . .

Sure enough, she sat down on the couch next to him, and he knew before she even opened her mouth, what the conversation would be about. He cursed inwardly.

"I think it would be best if we discussed those questions straight away."

It was a rather shy suggestion (she knew him too well by now), yet House knew she wouldn't back down so easily.

He shrugged, "Nothing to talk about. Those questions don't apply to us."

"We can still discuss how much our relationship changed since we started this," she suggested.

"We don't have a _relationship_," he informed her condescendingly.

"I know," she quickly added, and he wondered if she really did.

"I just meant, we can discuss our . . ." she trailed off, clearly lost for words. Her cheeks slightly reddened as she averted her eyes. Was it from frustration, or embarrassment?

"Feelings?" he supplied, "Because we don't have those either. Well,_ I_ don't."

He expected her to immediately go into denial mode, but she only sighed. He didn't even dare to ponder what that could mean. Although it was probably nothing.

"Why do you always do that?" she asked with a hint of desperation, "One moment you start opening up, and the next, you clamp down again?"

He huffed, "What did you expect? Honestly. Did you think I'd fall for you, get all warm and fuzzy, and start following you around like a lost puppy?"

"No," she said slowly.

"Good, because I'm not going to change. This is me, and you knew that while getting into this."

He stood up, and started walking towards the bedroom.

Half-way there, he stopped and turned around.

"Oh, and I'm not in love with you. Just so that we're clear," he told her harshly.

He saw the hurt his words caused her, but he needed to set her straight. This was just a bet, nothing more.

People may say that there's a right way and a wrong way to say something, but he knew that that's bullshit. If you're telling someone that you don't love them, and that you never would love them, then it doesn't matter if you deliver the words in a nice little packet with shiny wrapping paper and a perfect little bow on top, or wrapped in a dirty old newspaper. Because when everything is said and done, and the package is unwrapped, the contents are always the same. It will hurt just as much. Plus, it's a waste of the wrapping paper.

He turned around to resume his walk, when a burning pain shot through his right thigh. Losing his step, he crashed against the wall, barely holding himself up as he sucked in a shuddering breath.

She was immediately at his side, asking him if he was ok. Really, what would he have to do to make her hate him?

"I'm fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, trying to shrug off her arms.

She raised her voice, "You can barely stand up!"

"I said I'm fine," he repeated, clutching his thigh.

She picked up his cane that was now lying on the floor, and handed it to him.

"Come on, let's get you to bed," she urged him softly. As if talking to a child.

Before he knew it, she wrapped one of her arms around his back, and placed the other on his chest, stabilising him. He leaned against her, and with her help, he managed to reach the bed, immediately collapsing onto it. Reaching up with one of his hands, he covered his tightly shut eyes, as the other went to clutch at his thigh once again.

His breathing was shaky and laboured, the pain making every breath a struggle. It felt as if liquid magma was running through his veins. He resisted the overwhelming urge to start thrashing around, because he knew from experience that it only made matters worse. A thin sheen of sweat broke out all over his body. It was cold. It was always cold, making him shiver involuntarily. His left hand was now clenched in a tight fist by his side, shaking from the exertion. Flashes of light in front of his eyes, like a freaking disco!

He needed her out of there. . . . He couldn't let her see him like this. He groaned as a particularly scorching pulse gripped his muscle. It was silly, but groaning actually helped him relieve some pain.

Her hand brushed across his forehead, and he wanted to swat it away, except that he didn't have any energy left.

"Here, take these," she said, before she placed two pills in his mouth.

She helped him lift his upper body and held a glass of water to his lips, while he took a few large gulps. But his mind kept screaming, no, no, no. . . .

"Go away," he whispered hoarsely.

She gave him a confused look, so he gathered all of his energy to repeat, "I want you out. . . ."

If he opened his eyes, he'd see _hers_ reflect resignation. But since he kept them closed, he could only feel the mattress dip and hear her light steps as she walked out of the room.

In less than a minute, she was back. He opened his eyes this time to see what was still keeping her there. He saw her set a bottle of water, a vial of Vicodin and his cell phone on a nightstand next to him. Noticing his shivers, she went back for a blanket, and tucked him in tightly.

"Call me if you need anything," she ordered as she straightened up over his form.

She seemed to want to say something else, but she changed her mind. Instead, she lightly ran her hand over the now damp strands of hair on his forehead, and then left without another word. The look in her eyes - he never wanted to see it again.

_**# # #**_

It was a little before six, when she came back. Immediately checking up on him, she saw that he was sound asleep, yet his face was still contorted into a slight frown. His hair was damp, as were the sheets. Making up her mind, she gently shook his shoulder, calling his name. It didn't take much to wake him.

He opened his eyes, blinking at the sudden intrusion of light.

"You're all sweaty. You should take a shower, otherwise you'll catch a cold," she softly told him.

He groaned as he tried to lift himself up, and she instantly came to his help.

"Will you manage on your own?" she asked him worriedly as he gingerly stood up.

"I'll be fine," he grumbled.

By the time he returned, clean and wearing a fresh pair of pyjamas, she had already changed into her own sleeping attire as well as changed the bed linen, and made him a cup of tea.

He took the cup, taking a tentative sip. Chamomile. At least it wasn't black walnut and ginger.

To his surprise, he found that he actually enjoyed the sweet and mild taste of the tea, as its warmth soothed his aching body.

"Move over to my side of the bed," she commanded when he finished the cup.

He didn't even think of objecting, or questioning her motives. Truth be told, he couldn't even begin to understand why there was not even a hint of resentment in her voice, not even a trace of reproach. Just her usual caring self. . . . And he thought he knew her.

She climbed into the bed next to him, covering both of them in the process. Snuggling against him, she blanketed his right side of the body with hers; her head on his chest, her right arm draped over his abdomen, and her leg between his, adding some extra warmth to his damaged thigh.

He was a smart guy, priding himself on his deductive reasoning skills, which enabled him to solve every puzzle . . . except her. Because . . . how do you solve a puzzle that defies logic?

* * *

**A/N: **_Non sequitur means 'does not follow' and is one of my favourite logical fallacies. A lovely example would be: The number of pirates has dramatically decreased over the last few centuries, which corresponds with the increase of global temperature and the number of natural disasters. Draw your own conclusions. (Taken from __The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster__ - fun book.) _

_Chamomile tea is used to treat stomach aches, but it also has a relaxing effect on the body. I was "forced" to drink large quantities when I was young, and I did not appreciate it. It's too meek and sugary for my tastes. _


	48. Step 5 or Where Do We Go From Here?

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_I've hit 100 000 published words with that last chapter. Woo hoo? No, not really. I can't help but wonder how much that's worth in wasted hours. Actually, I don't want to know. Anyway, chapter 48 - things happen. _

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_**Chapter 48 – Step 5 or Where Do We Go From Here?**_  
(Month 3, Week 2) _

_You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams. ~ Dr. Seuss_

Pulling her hair out of the ponytail, she ran her hands lightly through the strands while approaching the bed. By some bizarre coincidence, the end of the first half of their seven months coincided with their last counselling session. Which was, of course, spent discussing the future of their relationship. If she didn't know any better, she'd think this was the universe's idea of a joke.

The past, the present, and the future all rolled into a single day. But . . . What had been, really hadn't been, what was, wasn't, and what will be, won't be.

She climbed carefully into the bed, so as to not disturb the silence enveloping the room. Silly, she thought to herself, but she couldn't stand any sound reverberating inside the emptiness of her being. There's nothing like echoes ricocheting between desolate walls, floor and ceiling to make you feel achingly alone, just as she felt at that moment. Alone and lost.

_He_ was there. Her solace and the cause of her turmoil. To say that he swept her off her feet . . . that he turned her world upside down . . . would just barely approach the effect he had on her life. For better and for worse. Right now, she really needed his pacifying side, so she slid closer to him.

To her surprise, he readily lifted his arm - an open invitation - and she didn't think twice about accepting it. He looked thoughtful. She supposed that was better than many of the alternatives. Either way, his embrace was soothing, and that was all that mattered.

"_Jill and Tom, tell us about your plans for the future."_

"_In a month, it will be our tenth anniversary, and we thought about having a second honeymoon. Our parents will take care of the kids and the household, and we'll take a month off work."_

"_What about you, Melinda and Elliot?"_

"_When we got married, we thought it was too soon for children. We weren't even financially settled yet, and then we never talked about it again. We decided we want to try it now." _

Children, pets, second honeymoons. . . . There were so many new beginnings, so much happiness. . . . Well. . . .

"_Tina and Jack, what have you decided?"_

"_We thought it over, and we think it would be best if each of us took some time on his own to think this through. It's nothing definite, just like you said . . . that we should think about our priorities and what really matters to us." _

Still, everyone was trying to make an effort. They had goals, plans for the future. . . . What did she and Greg have? Nothing. Nothing that was posing as something.

"_Allison, Greg . . . What about your plans?"_

_Get divorced in 3 months and a half? _

"_We'll . . . uh, just take it one day at a time . . . see how it goes."_

She wondered if everyone could see through them. To her it felt like they couldn't be more translucent. She was nervous . . . so nervous . . . and ashamed. The rest of the couples were making an honest effort, they struggled, but they came to the workshop to solve their marriages. What about them? She felt like a con artist, a swindler of the lowest kind. They were making a mockery out of marriage and for what?

How could she have been so stupid as to suggest this? This wasn't her. She valued marriage. She didn't believe in its sanctity, but she believed there was something special about promising to be with someone for the rest of your life.

She felt so ashamed. And it felt so good to be in his arms. And then she felt guilty, because she wasn't supposed to feel good, was she?

Marriage was about love. What was love anyway. . .?

Love felt warm.

And it wasn't just the soothing warmth of being in his arms. She felt his thumb brush over her hip in a constant rhythm, probably an unconscious movement, because that wasn't he. No, it was the kind of comforting warmth that came from within you. The kind that was first felt beneath the skin, before it spread to the surface. That delicious tingling beneath your fingertips, the beating of your heart . . . the beating of _his_ heart and his soft intakes of air. . . .

She was in love with him.

It wasn't a revelation. It should have been, but it wasn't. Instead, it felt like forgetting about an object, and then some day finding it again in an old shoe box beneath your bed, or in the bottom of your drawer. You didn't miss it, you didn't even know it was gone, but when you find it, you know that it has always been there.

She wasn't sorry that she loved him. She knew it would probably end in pain, but that moment right then . . . nothing mattered. He was asleep. She could tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Also, his thumb stopped its movement. It seemed that he wasn't all that distressed by the events of the day, as she thought he'd be.

She couldn't sleep. She didn't _want_ to fall asleep just yet. She just wanted to revel in her feelings for a little while longer. Because . . . she was right where she wanted to be and with the person with whom she wanted to be.

Was it unrealistic, knowing that he was the one she wanted to spend her life with after less than four months? If she were to marry him now, she would do so without a second thought. No games. This kind of certainty came with years, but maybe it was just her emotions clouding her judgment.

That's what he'd say. He'd rattle of the dozens of the effects of dopamine and serotonin, oxytocin and vasopressin, estrogen and pheromones, even adrenalin and norepinephrine. If everything could be explained away as just a chemical reaction, then nothing mattered. She refused to believe that.

It's been more than two years, and there has always been something. Call it a chemical reaction or whatever you want to, but there _was_ something. And she knew he knew that as well. Well, she hoped he did, because the alternative would be that everything was just her wishful thinking, just her reading too much into everything. He _did_ call her naïve.

But he also told her that he cared about her, and that he was nervous when asking her out to Monster Trucks. That had to mean something. If he wasn't ready to admit it, then there was nothing she could do. The last thing she wanted was to force him into something he wasn't comfortable with, even though essentially, that was exactly the situation they were in. Even so, she decided that she would just be herself. If he couldn't love her for her, then nothing else mattered.

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**A/N: **_This one is a bit sentimental, I know, but Cameron's that type of girl, and I don't think it's too bad. _

_So chronologically, we're half-way through. I still have a bunch of ideas that I'll have to arrange in some sensible order, or maybe I'll just improvise on that. I'm very enthusiastically studying again for my September exam(s), so I don't have all that much time. C'est la vie. _


	49. Is It That Obvious?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _It's been a while. Sorry about that. Also sorry if this chapter is not up to my standards as I wrote most of it with a headache. You've got to do what you've got to do. _

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_**Chapter 49 - Is It That Obvious?**_  
(Month 3, Week 2) _

_The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we'll lose it. ~Richard Bach _

Cameron knocked on the door of Wilson's office and then hesitantly entered. The Oncologist lifted his eyes from the file he was reading and waited for her to speak.

She must have been crazy to voluntarily walk into the lion's den, but she needed to talk to someone. And as far as choices went, he was the only one.

"I'm in love with Greg," she blurted out before sagging into the couch, hiding her face in her hands. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Of all the possible responses she imagined, laughing was not on her list.

She gave him a confused look, and he struggled to answer through the laughter, "And you just figured that out now?"

She instantly paled. "Oh God, is it that obvious?"

Noticing the panic in her voice, Wilson, ever the comforter, began his well-rehearsed spiel, "Oh no, no . . ."

He stopped mid-sentence, realising that not even he could make this argument convincing. Changing his tactic, he started again, "Well, you're married to him, so it comes with the territory. No one will think twice about it."

"I don't care what people think," she said desperately, "I just don't want Greg to know."

Wilson leaned back in his chair and said bitterly, "Oh, you don't have to worry about that."

Knowing how observant House was, one would think that nothing could slip by him. It was probably true. However, it was one thing noticing something, and another admitting you've noticed it.

The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves, and when it came to denial, Greg House was the master. With all of his intellect, he was capable of explaining away just about anything. Like a house of cards, it would tumble. In its stead, he'd build a glass house, coating the building with stone grey colour. You'd see a fortress and turn away, not knowing that the truth was only a stone's throw away. A smoke screen, nothing more, yet it would be sooner that glass would turn into a flowing river of crystals than someone would gain entrance.

When it came to truth, it wasn't always the one winning the battle who possessed it, but people could be easily fooled.

_They stood outside, each on his own balcony, with the cool afternoon breeze announcing the approach of dusk. _

"_How's the counselling going?" asked Wilson, not averting his eyes from the park below. _

"_Fine," a brusque reply by House. _

_The brief silence was soon disturbed by Wilson. "I've seen Allison today, she seemed . . . distracted." _

_House turned to look at his friend and said, "And you think I had something to do with it?"_

_Meeting his gaze, Wilson replied, "Oddly enough, the thought has crossed my mind."_

_House simply looked away, his posture tense. _

"_House. . . ."_

"_Oh here we go . . ." House shook his head in frustration, "Since I'm paying two shrinks to give me lots of valuable advice, I really don't need your 'I-studied-psychoanalysis-in-med-school' crap."_

_Hoping against hope._

_Wilson started losing his patience, "Would you stop being a jerk for one minute and listen to me?"_

_House kept staring stubbornly at the buildings in the distance. Wilson knew what was on his mind. He was beating himself up for whatever it was he did or said, but that did no one a favour if he was too stubborn to do anything to fix it. _

"_She loves you, you know that, right?" he asked heavily. _

_House huffed. "She doesn't love me. . . . It's just some kind of misplaced hero worship. Probably her daddy didn't love her enough, and now she's looking for confirmation elsewhere." _

"Maybe you should just tell him how you feel. Try to convince him. . . ." Wilson suggested.

She shook her head. "You know him. He'd just say my feelings violated some part of the bet and he'd break the whole thing off."

That did sound like something House would do. He did everything in his own time and no sooner, rushing him only made matters worse.

Wilson walked over to Cameron and set down next to her.

"So, you're just going to wait. . . ."

"I'm going to wait till the 7 months are up and then I'm going to try my luck," she answered dejectedly.

He placed an open palm on her back as a comforting gesture. They've grown much closer in the past few months, and it pained him to see her like this.

House really could be an idiot sometimes. He had this beautiful woman who would walk to hell and back for him, yet he preferred to live in his self-imposed exile of misery. Some people really didn't realise how lucky they were.

Speaking of the devil, House chose that exact moment to enter the office.

"Making a play on my wife?" he commented on their position.

"Just keeping her warm for you," Wilson replied while rubbing Cameron's back, eliciting a smile from her.

House narrowed his eyes at them and stretched out his arm in a silent command. As soon as Cameron stood up, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

"He's a horrible choice for a paramour," he said when their lips parted. "He's practically broke from having to pay for his exes, so don't expect any expensive gifts, and he uses more cosmetic products than an average female. If that's what you want, you're better off trying an actual woman . . . and letting me watch."

Still holding his hand, Cameron smiled at him, and then inquired, "What are you doing here?"

House pretended to think deeply, "Hmm, what was it? Oh that's right, we have a new case."

"We'd better go solve it then, shall we?" she said, tugging on his arm.

"Smooth . . . trying to change the subject," House commented while eyeing Wilson suspiciously.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you two," he added while she pushed him through the door.

Wilson could just hear Cameron say, "You can do that in the conference room. Let's go," before she closed the door.

He shook his head in amusement, thinking that there just might be hope for the two of them.

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**A/N: **_Just got home from an exam after a relatively sleepless night and decided that you definitely deserve an update. Now excuse me, but I'll go collapse into the bed, so that I'll be able to study some more for the tomorrow's exam. No, I wasn't kidding when I said I'm busy. And you might have to wait for the next chapter for a week or two again. Sorry again, I don't like it any better than you do. *sigh* _


	50. Back and Forth and Back Again

**Disclaimer: **_Nope. _

**A/N:** _First of all, thank you for all your encouragements. There is never enough of those. And since this is the 50__th__ chapter, I would like to take this opportunity and thank everyone who has offered their opinion, suggestions or criticism. All are appreciated, because they help me grow as an author and help me decide which direction to take next in the story._

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_**Chapter 50 - Back and Forth and Back Again**_  
(Month 3, Week 2)_

Breaking the kiss, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips.

"Wow, you're zealous today," House commented as Cameron began trailing kisses up his neck.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Oh no," he quickly added, "Keep going."

Her hand slipped beneath his T-shirt, smoothing over the hot skin on his stomach, while her lips continued their assault on his neck. He craned his neck to give her better access and then rested his hands on her hips. Her tongue traced his jugular, leaving a moist trail behind, while her nails raked across his abdomen, and he released a long breath. She felt his pulse quicken, as her lips began sucking on the still moist skin. Soon her teeth joined in. There was something thrilling about her biting lightly on the vein, feeling his blood pulse against the walls in strong bursts. Grazing the path with the hard edges of her teeth, she added more pressure, and his breath caught.

His hands were now beneath her shirt, exploring the expanse of her back. She let him take it off, before she continued her assault on the other side of his neck, her fingers now hooked just beneath his waistband. His breaths were already coming in short puffs, and that's when she tugged on his T-shirt. Pulling him into a sitting position, she quickly removed it, before pushing him back on the bed, flattening herself against him.

Her lips immediately found his, and she wasted no time in plunging her tongue in his mouth. He would have questioned her new-found aggression, had he not been beyond the point of questioning anything since several minutes ago. His hands glided over the smooth skin of her back and down her thighs, cupping her ass on the return trip and pressing her tighter against him. Her lips and tongue worked their magic, and he was lost.

Running his hands up her back, he swiftly unhooked her bra, and she straightened up to help him remove it. Their eyes met for the first time in a while, and he was surprised at the intensity he saw. She paused in the upright position for several long seconds, maintaining the eye contact and lightly running her fingertips up and down his rapidly heaving chest. One last peck on the lips, and she was off his lap, already working on his zipper.

Before he knew it, both of them were completely naked, and she was ordering him to move up the bed. Apparently, this was one way of shutting him up, as he followed her instructions without uttering a single word. As soon as he was comfortably positioned against the headboard, she once again straddled his lap and resumed their kissing. And then, without a warning, she suddenly lifted herself up with the help of his shoulders and sunk down on him.

He moaned, but she didn't give him enough time to process the sensations, as she instantly began moving above him. She slid her arms around his neck, while alternating between several different movements. Her pace was slow. Too slow for House. She could tell that by his firm grip on her waist, even though he did nothing to hurry her.

She quickened the pace a bit and buried her face in the crook of his neck. His hands were now all over her body, taking advantage of their position. She moaned as he ran one across her breasts, encouraging his ministrations.

He noticed that she was getting more and more vocal during sex the longer they were together and he loved it. Her moans and groans were gradually becoming more frequent and louder, combined with several throaty words of encouragement, breathed right into his ear. A few more rocks of her hips, and she tumbled over the edge with a last, "Yes . . . Greg. . . ." on her lips.

He held her tight against him until her orgasm subsided, just barely able to hold back himself. But it didn't take him long. A few more of her thrusts, aided by his hands on her hips, and she felt him come inside her. She kept showering his neck with kisses until he relaxed his hold on her.

They stayed like that for a while, House softly running his hands across her back, until their breathing calmed down. When it did, she gave him one last kiss before she slipped off his lap, and climbed under the covers. He followed her, lying down next to her.

They were quiet for a while, basking in the afterglow, until Cameron spoke, "I'm flying to San Francisco on Saturday for an Immunology Conference. I'll be gone for a week or so."

The sheets rustled as House turned to look at her. "When did you decide that?"

"Cuddy approached me a few days ago. . . ." She looked at him to find an unreadable expression on his face.

"And you said you'd go?" he asked evenly.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"Of course not. It wasn't I who was preaching that a couple should make every decision together," he spoke with an exaggerated casualness.

"It's just one week. . . ." she faltered, searching for . . . what? An excuse?

She already felt the beginnings of guilt creep in. When Cuddy spoke to her, she instantly agreed to the invitation, because she and Greg had hit a rough patch, and she thought some time apart might help them. That, and she might have been a bit ticked off at him.

"And waiting several days to tell me?"

She couldn't understand why he was upset about this. Judging by the way he was acting lately, he should have been more than glad to get rid of her, if only for a week. Even so, he was right. She should have told him sooner.

"I'm sorry, ok? In the future, I'll discuss everything with you."

"Whatever," he mumbled in reply and turned away from her.

Cameron sighed, her eyes coming to rest on the ceiling. It looked like it was their thing now - running into a new struggle right after resolving the previous one. Truce was a luxury, happiness even more so.

This conference might actually be a good thing. She was loath to leave him and throw away a week of their time together, but sometimes, you just have to take a step back to maybe see things in a different light. She certainly hoped he would.

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**A/N: **_At the risk of sounding like I'm making excuses (yet again), I'm still quite tired and busy. However, the worst is over, which means we can all look forward to some faster and better written updates. The classes start again in October, so I want to write as much as possible till then. This also includes another story that I've already written, but still needs to be edited. You can expect the first chapter pretty soon, though I should warn you that it's more like one of those fun little things than a serious attempt at fiction. My last exam is on Wednesday, which means that the next chapter of this one will definitely be up by the end of the next week. And thanks again for sticking with me this far. _


	51. I Left My Heart in Princeton

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_I apologise for the last chapter, it truly wasn't my best work as some of you noticed. I'm quite satisfied with this one, even though it's a bit short. Yes, I'm aware of that. I hope you'll like it, and as always, let me know if you discover any problems._

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_**Chapter 51 - I Left My Heart in Princeton**_  
(Month 3, Week 3)_

The runway disappeared into the distance, yet the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach remained. The buildings, parks, highways . . . were nothing but the minuscule features of a scale model, until even they hid under the blanket of greyish clouds. Cameron felt as if she was leaving something behind. Her heart. It felt as she was leaving her heart behind in Princeton.

Naïve. Why did that word always pop up in her mind when she was thinking of him? Naïve for thinking she could make him love her. Naïve for thinking he did love her. Naïve for believing that their marriage would be everything she wanted it to be. Naïve for falling in love with him in the first place.

It was her parents' fault for presenting her an illusion of an ideal marriage. For making her believe that it was reality. But it wasn't. Not for everyone. Not for most, even. She had thought that you just had to work hard and believe, and it would all turn up for the best. If your intentions were pure, then you would be rewarded. Life taught her otherwise time and time again, but she wouldn't listen.

She might have believed in fairy tales and impossibilities, but what was there left without hope? Where did you end up if you decided that this was as good as it gets? If you put a limitation on happiness, believing this was all you deserved?

Yes, she was naïve. Naïve for thinking it would be easy. She knew better than that now, yet she still believed that there was hope for them. However, hope was a far cry from the certainty she longed for. That was why her insides were in a twist.

She was nervous and scared, but not of leaving. Running away was always the easiest thing to do. It enabled you to hold on to your hope a little longer. To imagine all the beautiful possibilities, before they vanished in a puff of smoke when you had to face reality.

Oh no, she wasn't afraid of leaving. She was afraid of coming back, because she knew that his decision would either make them or break them. The flame would either burn stronger or die out. It didn't have to be the end, no, but she didn't know if she still had enough energy to fight.

All her life, she focused on education. Study hard, learn as much as you can, be the best you can be and establish yourself. Of course, she wanted love. She longed for companionship, but she didn't want to waste her time on meaningless relationships that were doomed to fail. She figured that she'd just wait for the right thing to come along. And it wasn't as much sacrificing herself as living up to her full potential. She loved her job and she loved helping people, but she couldn't shake the feeling that her time was running out.

She lost count how many times she told herself that there was no need to rush things. There was still much to do, but now she had her dream job and was starting to make a name for herself. She wasn't the youngest anymore. A lot of her old friends were already married. Many of them had children. And after all these years, she didn't even know anymore how to go about finding love.

But then, there was Greg. And she didn't know what was worse: losing him and having to face the possibility of a lonesome eternity, or simply losing him. The guy who made her risk her job just to be with him. Sometimes not even that. No guarantees. Screw the consequences. He would make her disregard all of her high-flying goals just to help him in any way she could. To make him happy.

One week. That's all it came down to.

_**# # # **_

House found the silence in his apartment deafening. Why, he didn't know. He was well used to being alone. Few were the nights he shared his bed with someone, and few were the days he shared his apartment. He relished the time alone and he became used to it to the point that he needed this quiet to hear his own thoughts. It became a part of him. His solace, in some twisted way.

Still, it was hours since he climbed under the covers and he still couldn't fall asleep. He refused to believe that it had something to do with the fact that this was the first night since their wedding day that she didn't lie next to him. But he did miss her presence. In a thoroughly unemotional way, that is. He just got used to her body lying next to his. Even if they didn't touch. Even if he didn't see her, he would always feel her presence next to him, and try as he might, he couldn't convince himself that she didn't make him feel less lonely. Somewhat less miserable.

Giving up the internal struggle, he slid closer to her side of the bed, and placed his hand just across the invisible division line. He wasn't being pathetic.

On the other end of the country, Cameron climbed into her own bed, wrapping herself tightly in the covers, even though it was more than warm enough.

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**A/N:** _A cyber cookie for anyone who knows what the title alludes to (without having to google it). _:)

_Next chapter: How will House and Cameron cope with the separation? I already have some general ideas, but it might still be a bit too optimistic if I say "by the end of the week", so I'll refrain myself. _


	52. Are You Lonesome Tonight?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _A cyber cookie has been awarded to "maerad" for figuring out that the reference song was __I Left My Heart in San Francisco__. You can now ponder on the sub-meanings of the title. A cyber cookie has also been awarded to two attentive readers who found a mistake. That was not the first night that House and Cameron spent apart. My bad. You see, writing is like lying, the more elaborate the lie, the more difficult it is to keep up with it. Brownie points for the rest of you who keep commenting and letting me know what you think. _

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_**Chapter 52 - Are You Lonesome Tonight?**_  
(Month 3, Week 3)_

"Wilson!" House yelled across the parking lot, stopping the Oncologist on his way to his car.

"Wanna come over tonight? Watch TV, eat some takeout?" House asked his friend once he caught up with him.

"That's the third time this week," Wilson commented.

"My treat," House added hopefully.

"You really miss her, don't you?" Wilson shook his head in amusement.

"What . . . no. . . . I can't just want to spend some time with my bestest buddy?"

Wilson kept smiling that knowing smile which eventually led House to mutter, "Fine. Suit yourself."

"Wait," Wilson called after him, still grinning widely. "I'll be there in half an hour, and I'll hold you to your word."

"Free take-out," he clarified.

_**# # #**_

The loud music and bitter taste of the beer made her wonder why she decided to come there at all. As far as bars went, this one was better than the average seedy hell-hole, but it still lacked the classy feel of a place where you'd go to actually enjoy yourself. Looking around, she could tell that most came here to forget for a little while, just like she did.

The conference was . . . o.k. . . . as conferences went. A whole lot of people, a bunch of lectures, some new discoveries. . . . It wasn't all that exciting, but at least it kept her mind off things as long as she was able to concentrate on the lectures, with what felt like a large stormy cloud hovering right above her head. Just a few more days.

She was acutely aware of every single day, every single hour. It made her feel like an inmate on a death row with the time slipping between her fingers. Coming here to this bar was supposed to relax her, yet it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She took another gulp of the now lukewarm drink.

She didn't even like beer all that much. Very rarely drank it. She wasn't much of a fan of alcohol in general, except for an occasional glass of red with a good book. Then why was she nursing her second glass of beer, entertaining the idea of ordering scotch for the next round? Neat.

It was better than the alternative - spending her time at the hotel where the conference took place. She'd inevitably get entangled into another chit-chat which would inevitably drift to her personal life at some point.

_Oh you're married?_

_What does your husband do for a living?_

Lie upon lie, and she was sick of it. Plus, she didn't want to think of him more than was necessary. In the end, it didn't matter all that much, since she was failing miserably either way.

Swirling the brown liquid inside the glass, she was suddenly interrupted in her musings by a male voice, "Is this seat taken?"

She briefly glanced up to see a tall, brown-haired, sporty looking guy standing next to her.

"Go ahead," she said distractedly before lowering her gaze again.

"Problems?"

"Sorry?" she asked, slightly startled.

"You look like you have something on your mind," the guy who sat down next to her inquired.

"Oh. . . . You could say that."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Thanks, but I can handle it," she tried to dismiss him. She was in no mood to discuss her personal life with a stranger.

"Can I at least buy you a drink?" he asked her hopefully.

That's when it hit her, in more ways than one. She must have really been off her game, not to notice it before.

Looking at the guy more closely now, she noticed that he was quite good looking. Short brown hair, green eyes, tall, athletic, probably in his early thirties. She could tell that he cared about his looks, and put some thought into how he was dressed. Casual, yet smart. But none of that mattered to her, as she waved her ring hand in front of his face and informed him, "I'm married," without a second thought.

"And yet you're drinking here, all alone." There was sympathy in his voice, not malice, but somehow, that made her feel much worse.

"I'm on a business trip," she defended.

He smiled. "If I had a girl like you, I'd never let her be lonely."

She smiled a bitter-sweet smile, grabbed her purse, placed a few notes on the counter, and murmured, "This was a bad idea," before walking out of the bar.

_**# # #**_

House and Wilson were lounging on the couch, eating Chinese takeout that House bought. The TV was showing a wrestling match, but neither of the guys paid much attention to the circus on the screen. House was mostly staring blankly either at the TV or his food container, while Wilson was observing House with great amusement.

"You miss her," he finally stated with a Cheshire grin.

"Oh don't start with this crap again. I'm happy that she's gone. I finally have some peace after what felt like forever," House exclaimed.

"Is that why you didn't even bother taking her to the airport?"

"What am I? Her chauffeur?"

"Just her husband."

House huffed, returning his attention to the TV screen. "A make-believe one."

Wilson stayed quiet for a couple of minutes until he couldn't take it anymore. "Just call her," he suggested with a heavy sigh.

"I never thought I'd say this, but you're actually more annoying than Allison. Thank God I'm not married to you," House spoke after a short pause.

A phone call interrupted their conversation, and Wilson couldn't miss the expression that passed across House's face.

House grabbed the receiver, but before answering the phone, he turned to Wilson. "One word, and I'm throwing you out."

"_Hi."_ It's been four days since he heard her voice, and he had to admit that he missed it just a little bit.

"Hi. . . . How's the conference?"

"_The usual. . . . I'm just calling to tell you that I get back on Saturday."_

House glared at the still-grinning Wilson before turning his back on him.

"What flight?" he asked, before adding, "I've got to know, so I can get rid of all the strippers and booze in time."

"_205. I should arrive around 5:30."_ He could swear he heard an undertone of relief in her voice. Why, he didn't know. It was he who should be relieved that she wasn't angry at him. Not that he deserved it, but women were in the habit of twisting things around.

"OK."

There was a short pause before she said, _"Bye."_

"Bye."

Putting the receiver down, he turned around to see Wilson, who was very much enjoying the show, and was without a doubt ready for another smart-ass comment.

"That's it. Out," he ordered his friend.

"I didn't say anything," Wilson feebly defended.

"I don't care. Out. And no more free take-outs for you," said House while pushing Wilson outside and closing the door after him.

* * *

**A/N:** _The end of next week? Maybe? This will be my last week off, so you better prepare yourself. _


	53. Hope Is the Thing with Feathers

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_A bit longer, as you ordered. (Don't get used to it.) You may not want to eat while reading this if you're particularly squeamish. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 53 - Hope Is the Thing with Feathers**_  
(Month 3, Week 4)_

_Hope is the thing with feathers  
That perches in the soul,  
And sings the tune-without the words,  
And never stops at all,_

_And sweetest in the gale is heard;  
And sore must be the storm  
That could abash the little bird  
That kept so many warm._

_I've heard it in the chillest land,  
And on the strangest sea;  
Yet, never, in extremity,  
It asked a crumb of me._

_~ Emily Dickinson: Hope Is the Thing with Feathers ~  
_

House nervously shuffled his feet, examining the pattern on the floor. The background noises seemed to come from far away, as if they were sounds from a dream that merged with reality. People. Lots of people. The sounds of shoes hitting the floor in a discord of different rhythms. The droning sound of mingled voices pierced by occasional laughter.

Every so often an announcement would come over the speakers, and his head would lift up. Wrong one. And then he'd hate himself for being so eager, and he'd seriously entertain leaving, but somehow, his feet wouldn't move. And he would decide to wait a little longer. Shouldn't take too long now. Rationally, the longer he waited, the higher the probability that she'd arrive any minute now, despite the delay. And just like that probability, so did his nervousness increase from moment to moment.

And then the right announcement came, and he thought that he still had enough time to make it out of there and pretend nothing happened. He stayed rooted to his spot, his eyes scanning the arrival gate. Just a couple more minutes. And then people started coming out of the gate. His mind began screaming, "Go! Save yourself!" but it felt as if his brain was disconnected from the rest of his body.

His nerves were waging an internal battle, his anxiousness slowly bubbling over until he saw her. Right at the end of the crowd. He could still sneak out . . . but then she noticed him, and her face instantly lit up. Just like he imagined it would. Not that he spent long hours thinking about it. She all but ran towards him with a large travel bag bouncing off her hip. What he felt inside. . . . Not even he could deny that it very much resembled happiness.

The next thing he knew, she was in front of him, curling her free hand around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. He gladly obliged, placing his own free hand on the small of her back, keeping her close. And when she ended the kiss . . . all he could see was her smile. Such joy radiated from her face that he couldn't resist the insistent tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I was just in the neighbourhood," was his pathetic attempt at downplaying the gesture. He knew she wouldn't buy it, but he had to do something to keep his dignity intact.

"I know how heart-broken you must have been for not being able to see me for that long, so I thought I'd shorten the torture."

She didn't say a word. There was no need as her eyes spoke volumes, as did her lips when she gave him another kiss.

"Let's go," she finally said, slipping out of his half-embrace.

She didn't need some elaborate gestures. Not from him. Small gestures done from the heart were more than enough to win her over, such as coming to meet her at the airport, or curling his fingers around her palm when it inadvertently found its way into his.

_**# # #**_

He pushed open the door to his apartment, and as soon as she followed him inside, he pressed her against it, slamming it shut in the process. His lips were on hers before she could process what was going on. The bag slid off her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud, joining his discarded cane. He pressed harder against her, his lips now trailing down her neck.

"Wait," she breathed out as soon as he released her lips, but he paid her no mind.

Instead, he grabbed hold of one of her legs, and hooked it around his hip. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before his lips once again found hers. What she could see was intense focus drowned in desire. This was what caught her off guard more than anything.

She felt wanted for the first time. For the first time, she felt that he wasn't just using her to get his rocks off. This time he wanted to have sex with her, because he was attracted to her, and he made no attempt to hide it. She'd have to be a fool to deny him now, especially since she found this new assertive side a huge turn on. Giving in to him, she slid her hands around his torso.

He must have understood her silent communication, because the next thing she knew, he was walking her backwards towards the bedroom. They stumbled down the hallway, all the while fumbling with each other's clothes, desperately trying to get rid of them. After nearly falling over several times, and crashing into the bedroom door, they finally managed to enter their destination with House pushing the door closed behind them with a resounding bang.

A hot session of lovemaking later, they lay spent in bed, still holding each other. Cameron ran her hand slowly up and down his damp chest, amazed that he wasn't shying away.

"I'm hungry," she mumbled after a while.

"Pizza?" he asked.

"Mhm, anchovies. You order it while I take a shower." With one last kiss, she walked towards the bathroom, not bothering to cover herself up.

House kept his eyes on her, admiring her body in all its naked glory until she disappeared from his view.

_**# # #**_

When she entered the living room, clean and wearing a fresh, comfortable pair of clothes, House had just closed the door, holding two large pizza boxes. They settled comfortably on the couch and eagerly delved into the food. The TV was tuned to Animal Planet, but with the sound barely audible, it was more of a background, than a source of entertainment.

"So how was the conference? Meet any hot young doctors?" House asked while chewing on a large slice.

"I was too busy missing you," she said jokingly while chewing on her slice.

If only he knew how close to the truth that was.

"What about you? Meet any hot young nurses?"

He contemplated for a few moments, before slowly answering, "Yes. . . . In fact, I met one. She called me, and I quote 'insufferable'. The audacity of her . . . I should talk to Cuddy. These nurses are getting fresher every day. You'll see, one day they'll start imagining that it's they who're healing the patients."

She laughed and shook her head. "It wouldn't hurt you if you were a bit nicer to them."

"Sure. Get on their side. See, they're forgetting who's who here. I'm the doctor and they're the flunkeys. They're supposed to do my bidding, not vice versa. Like it's my fault they're not intelligent enough to pass med school. Not to mention Wilson. . . ."

"What about him?" she asked curiously.

"He's been a major pain in the ass while you were gone. Apparently he believes that since his life is miserable, that everyone around him should be miserable too," he complained.

"James wouldn't do that. Whatever he did, I'm sure it was well-deserved."

He glared at her, finishing the last slice. "Gee, thanks for having my back."

"What?" she said, shrugging.

His eyes drifted to her last two remaining slices.

"Ever heard of surströmming? It's a Swedish dish, fermented herring sold in cans. It looks just like those anchovies, but it smells so horrible that people often eat it outside."

Cameron looked at him suspiciously, but kept eating.

"Or snake wine. . . . They put a whole snake in a jar with alcohol; it's supposed to be medicinal. Also, all sorts of lizards, deer penises, and whatever else they can think of."

She slowly finished chewing and swallowed the bite, before moving her hand holding the pizza a bit further from her mouth.

"Or casu marzu, a traditional Italian cheese with live larvae, which can launch themselves at you when agitated, or dig a hole into your stomach lining, if not properly chewed."

Cameron placed her half-eaten slice back into the pizza box, verging somewhere between fascinated and disgusted.

"What about balut, traditional street food from the Philippines? It's a fertilized egg with a partially developed foetus inside. When you open it, you see the yolk and the little chick . . ."

"If you wanted my pizza, you could have just said so," Cameron interrupted him while pushing the pizza box closer to him.

"But that wouldn't be as much fun," he replied, before shoving a large piece into his mouth, as if it was nothing.

He had his moments that could drive most people crazy, but she liked this quirky side of him. Every day with him was an adventure, and she suspected that no matter how much time she'd spend with him, he'd never cease to surprise her. This particular 'quality' was never high on her list of desired characteristics in a man, but after spending so much time with Greg, she didn't think she could ever truly love someone who couldn't keep her on her toes.

Watching him swallow the rest of the pizza, she realised that she already got more from him that day than she imagined she would, but there was still more to come. Later that evening, with the pizza boxes removed and TV showing a stereotypical action move, he was the one who pulled her closer, draping his arm across her shoulders like it was second nature to him. She rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes, as the exhaustion from the long day began to set in.

He gave her hope that day, and it was the most precious present he could ever give her.

* * *

**A/N: **_In a few hours my first lectures in this school year will start which means . . . Actually, I have no idea what it means. The updates will probably still be quite regular for a while as it's only the beginning, therefore there is not need to panic just yet._


	54. Happy?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _Erm, it seems I have "slightly" underestimated the situation. And yes, this chapter is more of a filler, but I tried to make it a fun one._

_

* * *

_**Chapter 54 - Happy?**_  
(Month 3, Week 4)_

Cameron woke up to an unpleasant sensation at her side. It took her a few moments before she realised that the sensation was House poking her.

"Stop that," she mumbled sleepily.

"You're drooling over Mick," he complained, poking her once more for good measure.

"No, I'm not," she murmured, snuggling closer.

Another poke. "Yes you are. I didn't think he was your type. Small, skinny . . . British. . . ."

She lifted her head then to notice that there was indeed a wet patch on his Rolling Stones T-shirt.

"Sorry," she said, smoothing her hand over his shirt. "Why are you awake this early anyway?"

"I dreamt about the great flood and awoke in sheer terror," he quipped.

Cameron glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was already time to get up. Catching House's eye and giving him a small smile, she announced, "I'm going to take a shower," and promptly climbed off the bed.

Half an hour later, she had already emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, much to House's surprise. However, the feeling was mutual as she found him in the kitchen, making breakfast.

"Scrambled eggs?" he questioned when he heard her approach.

"Sure," she replied once she got over her shock. She took a few steps closer just to check that the eggs were in an edible condition. They looked quite tasty and she felt herself get hungry.

"I didn't know you could cook."

"I don't think breaking eggs above a pan and stirring counts as cooking."

"Well, for a guy. . . ." she trailed off with a smirk.

He frowned before replying, "You better watch it missy, or I'll start commenting on your parallel parking skills."

"There's nothing wrong with my parallel parking."

"Of course there isn't," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Now excuse me," he immediately continued, indicating that he wanted her to move away from the drawer she was blocking with her body. He took out a knife and swiftly cut several slices of bread before removing the pan from the heat and distributing the contents on two plates.

Cameron stood there, observing him with fascination. He seemed perfectly at ease, his fluent movements resembling a dance.

Lost in her thoughts, she lagged behind when he grabbed the plates and carried them into the living room. She quickly hurried after him, while he got comfortable on the couch and clicked on TV. The Road Runner was his choice of entertainment.

Sitting down next to him and grabbing her plate, she felt oddly comfortable even though this was a large breach of her usual routine. She would wake up, take a shower, dress, apply make-up and then eat breakfast alone in the kitchen. She enjoyed the bit of quiet when she could arrange her thoughts and prepare for the day, but perhaps it was time for a new routine. Of course, provided Greg wouldn't mind waking up a bit earlier on a regular basis, which was an illusion in itself.

_**# # #**_

Nearly four months after their wedding, and people would still turn their heads when they walked in together. They were all waiting for the big explosion. Like a balloon being filled with air, little by little, until it could take no more. It had to happen, and they all wanted to be there when it finally did.

However, it was times like these, when doubt would creep in. What if. . . . But then, House was a master con man, they knew that all too well.

"Ah, here you are," Cameron said as she found House on the balcony overlooking the lobby.

"Missed me much?"

"It gets lonely in the clinic. Which is where you should be now."

She leaned on the railing next to him and followed his gaze. There was Cuddy talking to Tia, one of the doctors from Paediatrics. She glanced back at Greg's face to study it, that unpleasant feeling once again starting to nag at her.

It was as if he knew what she was thinking when he next spoke, "Here you can see Cuddles, a rare species of _Administratorus Hospitalis_, in her natural habitat. They can be easily indentified by the low cut tops, tight skirts and high-pitched sounds when agitated, which is most of time. It's their mating season now, which makes them particularly aggressive. They will attack males, drag them into their lair and devour them whole after mating, which is why they are perpetually single. This particular exemplar is the only one in the vicinity, which automatically makes it the alpha female. We can see here how she's establishing her dominance over another, lower, species."

Cameron started laughing, causing several heads downstairs to follow the sound of her voice, including Cuddy's. House quickly pulled her back, but it was too late.

"Great, now you blew my cover," he complained and quickly limped off as he saw Cuddy head off in their direction.

It was only a few hours of avoiding Cuddy later, when Cameron marched into the diagnostic's room with a patient file. Ideas and suggestions were thrown here and there before they decided on a course of action. The team was just about to walk out of the door, when House stopped them, "Uh uh, someone needs to do my clinic hours."

The three doctors slowly turned around to face their fate. House pulled his nametag out of his pocket with a smirk, and pointed it at each doctor, saying, "Duck, duck . . . goose."

He threw the tag in Chase's direction and said, "Make me proud," before retreating to his office.

An hour later, Cameron walked into House's office with the test results to find him leaning against his desk.

"The tests were negative," she informed him.

He breathed out, and she could almost see how he instantly discarded their previous ideas and started working on new theories. That's why it came as a surprise to her when he looked at her and opened his arms.

"I thought we agreed on no fooling around at work?" she asked hesitantly.

"Who's fooling around?"

There was something about him that she just couldn't resist, so she willingly walked into his arms. He gave her a quick kiss, before letting her go, and she settled next to him.

"James asked me if I prescribed any Vicodin for you. He said you needed awfully few lately."

"Like he has nothing better to do than to monitor my pill consumption," House grumbled.

"He's your friend. He cares about you. And he thinks you're. . . ." she trailed of, unsure.

"What?" he asked roughly.

"He said you seem happy," she said quietly, looking at the floor.

Telling him that was probably akin to taunting a wild cat, but she was clutching at straws. She remained perfectly still, waiting for his tantrum, which never came.

"Happy . . . pills . . . serotonin. . . . Check his serotonin levels," he ordered her.

Momentarily confused, she walked out of his office. He either wanted to change the topic, or he just had an epiphany. Whichever it was, she was left without an answer. But as disappointing as that was, all she could think was, '_He didn't deny it!_'

* * *

**A/N:** _Current situation: I (a remarkably non-morning type person) have to be up insanely early (6-ish) during week days, with an extra dose of late afternoon lessons a couple of times. Not to mention that I have 18 subjects this year. I think someone is trying to kill me. _

_This is why I don't want to make any promises as to the frequency of the updates, but I am slowly adapting. On the positive side, at least I'll be forced to improve my time management skills, right? _


	55. Impasse

**Disclaimer:** _Nope. _

**A/N:** _Hope the wait wasn't too bad. Here's something a bit longer to make it worthwhile. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 55 - Impasse**_  
(Month 4, Week 1) _

Cameron sat on their bed, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles on her jeans. She was on edge ever since she got the call two days ago; Sebastian Charles was in town, and he wanted to see her. She had agreed, probably not her wisest move. They'd met once or twice after he had been a patient at Princeton Plainsboro, but not since she married Greg. Understandably, she was nervous how both guys would react, especially since she hadn't told either about the other.

There was not much time left, and she had to get going if she wanted to be there in time. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked into the living room, where House lay on the couch, watching TV.

"Going somewhere?" he asked her, without turning his head.

Cameron nearly jumped out of her skin. She could swear this man had a sixth sense of some sort.

"I'm meeting Sebastian at that bar near the hospital," she admitted quietly.

"Sebastian. . . ?" He tapped the remote control against his thigh a couple of times, seemingly trying to connect the name with a face.

"Doctor Sebastian Charles," she replied with all of the confidence she could muster.

"And how long has this been going on?" House inquired, as he turned to look at her, his arm now draped across the backrest. She could tell that his calmness was just on the surface, like a thin sheet of ice on a lake. One wrong step, and you're drowning.

"There's nothing going on. We met a couple of times when he came for his refill."

Instead of responding, House turned back to the TV. Cameron's lips curled into a small smile. She walked over behind the couch and embraced him across his chest, leaning over the backrest.

"You're cute when you're jealous," she whispered into his ear.

"I'm not jealous," he muttered.

She gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek before sliding her hands slowly across his shoulders and then letting them fall against her sides.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said before walking out of the door.

_**# # #**_

The minutes ticked by slowly, and he was still alone in the apartment. He didn't like that one bit. If he had to play by the rules, then she sure as hell had to as well. Having late night dates with another man was a clear breach of their agreement, especially since Dr. Philanthropist was involved. He better plant his love for people in another man's garden, because he would have none of it.

One phone call and 15 minutes later, House walked across the bar, sitting down next to Wilson.

"I take it this is your emergency," Wilson said in a way of greeting, indicating towards the two doctors in a corner booth. They seemed to be having fun. Too much fun, for House's liking.

Taking his eyes off the couple, he ordered a Bourbon through gritted teeth.

"She would never cheat on you," Wilson said seriously.

House clutched the glass tightly the moment the bartender set it down in front of him and replied, "I don't care."

He downed the entire glass in several large gulps, feeling the fiery liquid burn down his throat. The act was far too ambitious, even for an experienced drinker like him, which he immediately felt as his eyes stung from holding back a cough. He couldn't take any chances. She should never know he was there.

"Then why are you spying on her?"

Another quick look at the couple before he ordered another shot. "If she breaks the rules, I win."

Wilson saw the doubt in House's eyes in the brief moment his friend looked at him.

"She won't sleep with him," Wilson repeated.

House stared at the amber liquid, swirling it inside the glass, creating small ripples that gradually grew into waves. The dim light in the bar reflected off their peaks. One small, slow sip this time.

"How do you know?"

_Because she loves you? Because she'd never risk losing you?_ It would have been so much easier if he were allowed to tell the truth. _How much of her confidence to betray? _

A pause stretched between them until Wilson finally spoke, half-regretting each word as soon as it left his mouth.

"She fell in love with her husband's best friend."

That was all he said. It was all that needed to be said.

"That's guilt," House said after thoroughly analysing this new piece of information.

"You don't think she'd feel guilty if she cheated on you?" Wilson inquired, slightly surprised.

"Why should she?" House asked simply as he met his friend's eyes.

Wilson opened his mouth to respond, but then changed his mind just as quickly. Instead, he shook his head and looked away.

"You should tell her how you feel," he spoke again after a while, if only to stop House's drinking odyssey.

"And how do I feel?" House countered with derision.

Wilson shrugged, unwilling to actually voice his thoughts.

"You think I love her?" His tone was serious, his words coated with anger, yet not the kind that would make him a threat to anyone around him. It was directed inwards.

_Your words, not mine._ Wilson lowered his gaze.

"You know what, screw this. . . ." And with that he walked out of the bar, leaving a half-empty glass and a thoroughly guilt-ridden Wilson behind.

_**# # #**_

It was after midnight when Cameron locked the car door and headed towards House's apartment. She had had no intention of staying out this late, but somehow she felt she owed something to Sebastian. Why did she always have to feel so goddamn guilty about everything?

"_You're married?"_

Married. How could such a simple word be so heavy with meaning? Her eyes instinctively rested on her wedding band. Even though she was accustomed to it now, it wasn't quite a part of her yet. She wouldn't allow herself that.

"_To House?"_

She had never led him on. She told him that first time before he left that friends was all they were going to be. Denial and smoke screens aside, she only had eyes for one man.

"_He did seem to have a thing for you back then."_

That took her by surprise. It was always her that had a thing for House. Never the other way around.

"_I love him."_

The key fit neatly into the lock, making only the slightest noise before the door opened.

"_Hope you don't mind me saying, but it seems awfully fast."_

"_I love him."_

_I love him._

_I love him._

Strange, how the words slipped so easily from her tongue now.

She entered the darkness of his apartment, and her heart started beating faster. Dozens of ominous scenarios ran through her mind as she walked down the hallway. The doors slid open, and they were all replaced by guilt when she saw him lying in the bed. The darkness was heavy upon her shoulders, enclosing her into a dark cage that was his thoughts and feelings.

She wasn't willing to put her life on hold for him. And he had no right asking her. Still. . . .

She softly padded across the room and sat down on the bed. Even though his back was turned towards her, she could tell that he was awake.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and then immediately regretted her choice of words. She had nothing to apologise for.

"You're still sulking," she tried anew, with a lighter tone.

No response.

She placed her hand gently on his shoulder and leaned closer. "Greg. . . ."

Nothing.

She sighed. His warmth seeped through the thin material of his T-shirt, and the words were right there, on the tip of her tongue.

_I love you. I was thinking of you the entire time I was talking to him. It felt as if you were there. _

Instead, a single word slipped past her lips. "Please. . . ."

_I would tell you everything if that was what you wanted. _

She swallowed thickly and walked into the bathroom where the shimmering water mixed with her flowing tears.

She used to believe that ignorance is bliss. Now she knew that there was nothing worse than not knowing.

* * *

**A/N:** _Perhaps some of you would prefer if there were more of a confrontation between House, Cameron and Dr. Charles, but I just didn't feel like it. It was mostly a subjective call, I would say, not in the least because there will still be plenty of yelling in the future. _


	56. Spellbound

**Disclaimer: **_Nope. _

**A/N:** _Um, hi. Hope you still remember me. Let's just say that I'd make for an excellent duckling as far as being hugely overworked and still being able to function goes. Well, except for taking ages to update. Sorry about that. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 56 - Spell-bound**_  
(Month 4, Week 1)_

The moon shone brightly through the curtains, shedding light upon the silent room. The outside world reflected upon the ceiling in a dance of shadows, upon which House's eyes rested. Sleep would not come easy that night. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, but this time, it wasn't because of his leg. It barely hurt, and as much as he would normally welcome the absence of pain, this time, he wasn't sure. He could use a distraction. A distraction from the heaviness upon his soul, and even more so, from the force of his thoughts that were tearing him apart.

Empathy and doing the right thing were foreign concepts to him. He was selfish. Experience taught him that this was the only way. If you didn't take care of yourself, then no one would lift a finger to do it instead of you. So he did what he wanted, regardless of the consequences. Let other people fend for themselves, and if he hurt someone along the way, then tough luck for them. It was a dog eat dog world outside; if you let yourself get too emotional over it, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. No good deed goes unpunished.

And she was a perfect example of that. . . . He carefully turned on his side as not to wake her.

She looked so small under the covers, and with the inaudible sound of her breathing, she almost seemed like an apparition. An invisible force that was tearing him up inside, even while he was breaking her.

He didn't understand her. She didn't fit into his neat idea of how the world should function. If he acted solely on his own interests, disregarding others, then she acted solely on others' best interests, disregarding her own in the process. Why would someone want to inflict so much pain upon themselves? What was she trying to prove?

And he was no exception when it came to hurting her. He knew how many tears she had shed on his account, and it was enough to fill a river. The more ruthless he tried to be towards her, the more loving she was towards him, and as much as he tried not to care, he was failing miserably. He hated her for making him break his no.1 rule: never get attached, and he hated himself for not being strong enough, but the fact remained: he didn't want to hurt her any more than he already had.

What was she doing with him anyway? There were so many guys out there that were a hundred times better than him. Guys that would treat her the way she deserved it.

She truly was beautiful. . . . His hand gingerly drifted towards her face and gently traced its contours. So beautiful. Her skin was pleasantly warm and soft. He brushed away the strands of hair that were covering her cheek. Like silk. His fingertips drifted down her neck, across her shoulder and then followed the path of her arm, resting against her hip. All the way to her fingers, where he felt the cold metal of her wedding band.

He had been selfish. Not for the first time, but this was one of the few times he regretted it. He shouldn't have gone along with this silly game of hers. He should have swallowed his pride and let her remain unscathed. He should have let her get together with Charles. Even though he hated the guy, he knew he'd be good for Allison. Or perhaps he should encourage her to get together with Chase. On second though, maybe Chase wasn't quite worthy of her. But then, neither was he.

It was too late now, that much was clear. Her heart got involved like he knew it would. Did she love him? He didn't even dare to dwell on that possibility . . . for various reasons. Either way, he would hurt her, like he knew he would from the very beginning. The only question that remained was: when?

As she lay so peacefully next to him, in his bed, on his pillow, underneath his covers, he knew he needed to give her something. Even if that something was just three more months with him. And even though they wouldn't be nearly enough.

_**# # #**_

Cameron opened her eyes to a dark room. It was still the middle of the night, 3 am as the alarm clock informed her, but she didn't have to wonder what awoke her at this hour. The notes penetrated the closed door, which only just dulled the sound. She glanced across the bed to see that she was its only occupant. There was no need really. Who else would be playing guitar in the middle of the night?

The dilemma of what to do sprang into existence, and she found herself chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous tic that she sometimes succumbed to. She could well pretend she had never woken up. It would have been easier for both of them. Imposing on his moments of self-imposed solitude seemed like the worst possible choice. Could there be a clearer sign that he wanted to be left alone? Yet . . . there was something in his music. Something in the dull, mournful chords of blues he played that made her pause. She felt that if it could speak, then it would cry . . . cry out in pain.

She was standing beside the bed now, the notes vibrating inside her body, shaking her to the core. Their power drew her nearer. The door opened, her bare feet against the naked floor and then his form, hunched over his guitar between the shadows. Creating the shadows.

She found it difficult to breathe, the air drenched with the heavy chords. Her whole body was heavy, the weight pressing down on her. She leaned against the wall, suddenly dizzy. Her vision grew blurry and it wasn't until she felt a wet drop against her palm that she realised she was crying. Her mouth opened, but no sound would come out.

Silence was all around them, permeating everything, choking everything with its violent screams. Music was the silence with its trembling fingertips against the cold metal, cold metal against warm wood. Fingertips against metal against wood in a demonic rhythm. It was felt much more than heard. And just when she thought she could take no more . . . It stopped.

The spell that bound her to her spot was broken, and she stumbled forward. Her palm rested on his shoulder, and she wished he would seek comfort in her, not his music. She wanted it all.

"Come back to bed," she whispered, the simple sentence infused with a myriad of overtones and submeanings.

He disposed of his guitar and stood up, somehow even taller than usual. Her hand slipped off his shoulder as he turned around. The darkness gave little away of their faces, only a glint in his eyes, a shallow reflection of light. She was terrified.

And then her hand was in his, and they were walking across the hallway, a dream parade. Was it real? That moment when reality and fantasy merge into an indistinguishable mesh.

They lay down in bed, him facing her. It seemed like an invitation. Perhaps because she wanted it to be one.

She slid closer, her arm encircling his waist. He returned the gesture and she could tell that it wasn't forced. This was the closest she felt to anyone in years. It was the closest she felt to him.

"Will you teach me to play?" she questioned, even though it wasn't what she was asking.

* * *

**A/N:** _So, the current situation . . . I barely have time to sleep, let alone anything else. The holidays will offer some welcome relief, and possibly the next chapter in a decent amount of time. Otherwise, I won't make any promises as far as updates go, except that there will be updates. I'm neither abandoning this story, nor putting it on hold, even though it may appear so occasionally. _


	57. Ad Astra

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_Instead of apologising yet again, I just made the chapter longer. I suspect you don't mind. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 57 - Ad Astra**_  
(Month 4, Week 2)_

_To see a World in a Grain of Sand  
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,  
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand  
And Eternity in an hour._

_~William Blake - Auguries of Innocence~_

"Hey, watch it! Dolly's not that kind of girl," House exclaimed as Cameron nearly dropped his guitar.

"Dolly?" she inquired with a bemused expression.

"Yes, Dolly," he repeated while keeping his eyes on Cameron. "My no.1 girl and one true love."

Cameron laughed. "Ok, sorry Dolly," she apologised to the guitar.

"You better be," House replied as he sat down on the couch next to Cameron. "So, how do you want to do this? Finger style or strumming?"

"What?" she asked with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter," he chastised her.

"I wasn't . . ." she feebly defended when he interrupted her. . . .

"Of course you weren't. . . . Finger style it is," he decided and took the guitar in his lap. "Observe."

He played the simple melody of "Hush, Little Baby" and she was amazed. She would always be amazed, no matter which song he played. As far as technical proficiency went, there was not much to say against him, but she'd listened to many flawless performances and not all of them had this effect on her. His always did, even if it was just a simple lullaby.

There was a piece of him in every song he played. At first, she thought it to be strange that a man who shuddered at the mere thought of expressing an emotion, any emotion, would inject so much feeling into his performance. But then, no one can keep everything bottled up forever, not even he. Music was his outlet, his one special place where he dared to let go, and now he was granting her access.

The final notes gently faded out as the song ended.

"Interesting choice of a song," she commented.

"I don't mind if you botch this one for me."

She glared at him. "Thanks for your faith in my abilities."

"You mean lack thereof?" he questioned with a grin. Before she could unleash a pillow attack on him, he added, "Everyone sucks when they begin."

"Including you?"

"Except me. I was born with perfect skills. Now pay attention."

He put on his best scholarly expression and proceeded to explain the intricacies of guitar technique. She listened attentively up to the point when he placed the guitar in her lap and once again told her to be gentle with her. She instantly felt the nerves inside her bubble up. It was silly, she knew that, but she really didn't want to embarrass herself in front of him, which was exactly what she would do unless a miracle was about to happen.

The guitar felt foreign in her lap, uncomfortable even, and as she tried to reposition it, a thought occurred to her: How many people had held it before her?

Greg told her that he had it since he was a child, but did he ever let anyone else play it? She suspected that she was one of the few, which only made her appreciate his gesture even more.

Her fingers made contact with the strings for the first time as she let the open G ring out.

G as guitar. G as gee, I can play! G as Greg. G as him letting her in.

Open E followed. "Eddie Ate Dynamite, Good Bye Eddie" was the mnemonic he used to teach her the names of the strings, but more than by the silly sentence, she was impressed by how the strings came full circle, beginning and ending with an E. Perhaps that's why he enjoyed music so much; even though so many different chords and melodies could be played, they all came from a limited number of strings and tones. Every song could be deconstructed to its smallest elements, and every sound had a clear origin; no uncertainties. Most people would say this kills the magic, but he was not most people.

And there _was_ a certain magic to it. She felt it as she worked her way through her first song. Well, there was magic as long as you played the notes properly; one of the strings gave out a particularly dull and strangled sound, making her cringe.

"Hold the string down against the fret as you pluck it," he instructed.

"But it hurts," she complained in what she would later realise was suspiciously close to childish whining.

The expression on his face spoke volumes.

"It does," she defended.

That's when he took her hand in his only to notice that her fingertips were the shade of ripe raspberries.

"Perhaps we should call it quits for today. I completely forgot how much it hurts before your fingertips get calloused," he said almost apologetically.

She was intrigued. "It doesn't hurt you?"

"Not as much."

He watched with interest as she explored each imperfection of the hardened skin as if it were the 8th wonder of the world.

"Play something for me," she finally said, letting go of his hand.

He hesitated only for a moment before taking the guitar, and she thought how natural it looked in his lap. So much more than in hers. A smile found its way to her lips as she recognised the song: "Blackbird" by The Beatles; one of her favourites.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise._

She could listen to him play for hours. Even just observe his fingers as they danced across the fretboard with such ease.

So much could be read into his choice of the song, too much, but for once she just listened. Too early it ended, and she wanted to ask him to play another one, but he was already on his feet.

"Let's go. I need some fresh air," he said and threw his helmet in her direction.

"Now? It's dark outside," Cameron exclaimed, glancing at the window.

"So?" he questioned nonchalantly as he started putting his shoes on.

Shrugging, she followed suit and it wasn't long before they were meandering through the streets of Princeton together, escaping its nightlife with bright neon lights, loud music, and scarcely clad women.

Cameron clung on fast to House as the cold air whipped against her body. The steady incline of their bodies, once to the left and then to the right was like the timeless undulation of a pendulum on a grandfather's clock. Comforting.

Soon, the city was behind them and still they rode on, chasing the intermittent white line that stretched into the distance. Gradually, approaching cars became a rarity as they became surrounded by a grassy, gently slopping landscape.

That's when House started slowing down and took them down a narrow path that branched off from the main road. By the looks of it, it lead into the middle of nowhere, but she didn't mind . . . being lost in the rolling grassland with not a soul in sight. She didn't mind the darkness that covered the sleeping nature. And the silence that surrounded them . . . it was peaceful, not eerie.

Several long minutes went by when they finally stopped at a widening in the road that appeared to be an abandoned bus stop with a broken down sign.

House shut off the engine, and there was hardly a sound to be heard other than their steady intakes of air. They dismounted the bike, and she followed him onto the grass where he lay down on his back. She got on the ground perpendicular to him, using his stomach as a pillow.

It truly was a beautiful night. The moon was barely visible, but that only made the stars seem brighter. And there was a myriad of them, scattered across the night sky.

"When I was little, I would sneak out at night. I'd lie down on the bench in our garden and spend hours just looking at the stars," Cameron admitted softly.

"Really? I always had you pegged as more of an indoor type; curled up inside with a good book," House replied just as quietly.

She sighed wistfully. "People change." A short silence followed as she took the time to fully take in the image. "I forgot how beautiful they are."

Her head rose and fell as he took in a deep breath.

"Imagine how long it takes for their light to reach us. The sun seems so close, but its light still needs 8 minutes to travel all the way to the earth. All these stars, they're light years away, and what we see now are just echoes from the past. They may well be dead by now."

"I've heard about that, yes," she answered barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the nature and the delicate balance that came to be between it and the two of them.

"Even those that still exist . . . most of them are growing more and more distant to us and each other as the universe expands."

"Kind of like people," she supplied, "growing more distant, more desolate . . . more lonely . . . ."

His hand found its way to her hair and he started stroking it gently, as if he sensed she needed reassurance, a warm touch from another person.

"Unlike our sun, most stars are in binary systems," he said, "two stars circling around each other."

"I like that," she commented.

"But . . ." he interrupted her momentary consolation, "Some of these stars keep circling closer and closer around each other, caught in a death spiral, until at the end they collide."

She turned her head around, trying to meet his eyes; trying to find some reason behind him telling her all that, a reason why universe worked the way it did. Failing that, she returned her eyes to the night sky where the stars were still happily twinkling and she found it hard to believe that this could ever change.

The hand that was until a moment ago resting in her hair was now outstretched alongside her body, and she reached behind her, resting her small palm in his.

Would they collide one day in a massive explosion just like those stars that are unable to resist each other's pull of gravity?

* * *

**A/N: **_I'm rather sick at the moment, so I'll just give you a quick run down of the essentials:_

_~ I have holidays for another two weeks, so I'll have a bit more time to write (if my health allows me)_

_~ I decided to post the status of the yet unpublished chapter(s) in my profile so I don't keep you in the dark (it's the least I can do for keeping you waiting)_

_~ I have already started on the next chapter and could continue writing it today if it weren't for the haze of tears and having to use a tissue every 30 seconds_

_~ I hate colds_

_*goes back to wallowing in self-pity*_


	58. Chances Are

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _This chapter opens up another important issue. Wouldn't want you to get too cosy after the fluffiness of the previous chapter. _:)

* * *

**Chapter 58 - Chances Are_  
_**_(Month 4, Week 3)_

His attention was fixated on the beads of sweat that oh-so-slowly and sinuously made their way from her neck towards her collar bone, and finally disappeared beneath the soft material of her tank top.

She stepped off the treadmill, took a few large gulps of water out of the bottle and began her stretching routine. His eyes followed the curves of her lean body; the flexing muscles and soft skin, which was flushed and moist from the exertion. Her breathing was still slightly elevated as she came out of the cat pose and caught his eye. A knowing smile appeared on her lips, and she slowly walked over to where he was sitting on the couch. House didn't waste any time drawing her onto his lap, and crashing his lips to hers. His arms encircled her body, pressing her closer to him.

When necessity drew them apart, she spoke in a breathless voice, "I should go take a shower."

"It can wait," House replied, while running his hands up and down her thighs.

Cameron leaned in for one last kiss before trying to climb off him, but House had other ideas.

"Let go," she ordered him.

"Oh, come on. . . ." he whined.

"Greg. . . ." she tried once more, her face tantalisingly close to his.

Looking into his eyes, she was nearly swayed. But no, she had a mission, and as much as he made her want to forget everything, she would not cave.

"Fine, then we'll talk now," she spoke with as much confidence as she could muster.

"You want to talk? Now?" he asked her incredulously, and she nearly laughed at the disbelief on his face.

One of her hands began playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck, something she knew by now that he found calming.

"I've been thinking . . ." she began softly.

If she had leaned just a couple of inches closer, she could have felt the wild beating of his heart as he imagined all the terrible ways for that sentence to end.

"I think you should start with physiotherapy again."

Before she could realise what had happened, she was pushed to the side, and House was off, pacing across the living room.

"I knew it would come to this eventually . . . You just can't let it go . . ."

"Will you just listen for a moment?"

"Did you talk to Wilson by any chance?"

At times she was frightened by how well he could read her. "He just mentioned that you never really gave it a try."

"Because it doesn't work!"

"You can't know that if you've never tried it. . . ."

He stopped his pacing and looked at her with a sardonic smile on his lips. "You can't fix everyone, Allison."

"I'm not trying to fix you."

"No? It sure looks like you are."

A heavy sigh passed her lips. If only she could make him understand. . . .

"You don't take as much Vicodin as you used to . . ."

"I'm not quitting the pills. I'm in pain."

"I know. . . . I just wanted to say that you don't take as many and you don't seem to be in more pain. Less even. And if you tried physio, who knows what would happen. . . ."

"I do. Nothing would happen. I'm not your personal project and I'm not going to let you mould me into something you see fit for me."

She stood up and walked across the room to him.

"Is it so wrong for me to want you to be happy? To not want you to be in pain?"

"It's not possible for me to be happy," he replied bitterly, before turning away from her and making his way to the bedroom.

She immediately followed him, grabbing his arm to stop him.

"No, you seek out misery. If you'd just let people help you . . . It doesn't even have to be me. Just let _someone_ help you!"

Her eyes were pleading with him, but her only answer was his uneven gait as he yanked his arm out of her grasp and walked away.

"Please think about what I said," was her last attempt before he closed the door behind him.

He did think about it. The entire time he was lying in bed waiting for her. That is, assuming she even planned to join him that day. His run-ins with Stacy always ended with one of them sleeping on the couch, or outside of the apartment.

It was probably not a wise idea, comparing the two women. They were nothing alike; the roles that they played in his life were nothing alike. He clutched his thigh as he felt the ebbing of pain creep in.

What right did she have, telling him how to live his life? Telling him how to deal with his pain? It was _his_ pain! _He_ had to live with it for years. It was he who felt the torturous pulses every morning and the searing pain all too often. She had no idea, and she just waltzed in here thinking . . . God knows what she had been thinking. Not much probably.

He had been dealing with this alone from the very beginning. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone, least of all her.

He lay in bed silently, listening to her clattering around the apartment, all the while holding on to his anger like a security blanket. She liked to keep herself busy when she was upset, that's something he had learned quite quickly into their mock-marriage.

Eventually she joined him in bed, lying down on her side, facing the wall. He was half-relieved; the inexplicable sentiment occupying his mind for several long minutes. There was no rationale behind his caring. This was new for him, feeling remorse while still firmly believing that he was right. How did that even work?

He hated the unease, the tension between them, while knowing the solution was right there, within his reach. Before he could change his mind, he slid closer to her, leaning against her back and draping his arm around her waist. She tensed for a moment, and he half-expected her to shrug him off, but not she. Never she.

Her hand now covered his, and she tugged on it lightly, pulling him closer. Only as he burrowed his face in her neck and felt her body relax completely, dared he entertain her proposition. What if there really was a chance for something more out there?

* * *

**A/N: **_It's not possible, but it is! I've already written the next chapter, although I still need to edit it. So, it hopefully won't take too long to publish, but the one after that, well, here's where things get complicated again. _

_Lectures start again on Monday_. :(


	59. Who's Perfect?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_The chapter was too short, so I added some smut at the end. I realised I've been (sub)consciously avoiding it for far too long. _

_

* * *

_**Chapter 59 - Who's Perfect?**_  
(Month 4, Week 3)_

House blinked a couple of times, fighting the intrusion of morning light against his retinas. As he tried to shield his eyes from the brightness, something caught his attention. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he spotted Allison standing in front of the window. He could not see her face, but judging from her posture, she seemed deep in thought. The way the morning sun caressed her silhouette was mesmerising and he couldn't help but spend several moments simply observing her.

Finally, he climbed out of the bed and walked over to her. She did nothing to acknowledge his presence, and he wondered just how lost in her thoughts she had to be. It was only when he embraced her that she leaned back against his chest, a gentle sigh escaping her lips.

For a while, they simply enjoyed the serene closeness, and then House spoke, "Do you know what a bodhisattva is?"

She shivered as she felt his hot breath against her skin, his scruff scratching her bare shoulders as his deep voice reverberated inside her mind.

"No," she whispered.

"In Buddhism, they believe that you can end the suffering of eternal rebirth if you reach enlightenment. A bodhisattva is a person who decides to delay the enlightenment out of compassion for the rest of the world. They choose to try to ease the suffering of others and to show them the right path, even while suffering themselves."

Cameron placed her hands upon his, while keeping her gaze trained on an aimless spot in the distance.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"No reason."

She knew him well enough by then to know that he did nothing without a reason.

"I'm not perfect. Far from it."

She could sense the objection in his silence and for some reason, she felt an irresistible urge to break his delusion, but first, she broke free from his hold.

"I told you already that I wanted you for selfish reasons, and I married Mathew, because I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't done everything in my power."

"But when you married him, you knew that it might screw you up for good. You knew you'd suffer, and you could've still helped him without marrying him, but you chose to go all out with him. And you're still sticking around me, even though I've hurt you numerous times. And you still want me to be happy. I couldn't do that," he admitted.

The thought '_If you loved that person as much as I love you'_ popped uninvited into her head, but she quickly stifled it.

"You might."

"I couldn't," he repeated in a way that made her feel special. He was complimenting the one trait that he had always found the most annoying in her. The change of heart gave her hope, though she didn't dare consider his rationale behind the conversion. In the end, only time would tell, but for now . . .

"Perhaps every person has a limit to how much pain they can take. My childhood was great, and with Mathew . . . even though it hurt, it felt good to help him, so I still have some leeway left. You were hurt by your father . . . and what happened to your leg, and . . ."

"Stacy," he supplied.

She could almost see his whole life play itself out in his mind's eye. It made her heart constrict with sorrow.

"Yeah. . . ." She placed her palms upon his shoulders in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "Maybe you've already reached your limit," she said, looking deep into his eyes.

She refused to believe that . . . that life has broken him into so many pieces that he could never be complete again.

If you've been hurt by every single person you loved, how can you trust again? And how can you let yourself love someone new if you can't trust them?

She was awoken from her musings when she felt his hands on her hips and heard him say, "I feel like pancakes."

There was a smile upon his lips, and she was surprised to find that it reached his eyes.

He always knew how to lighten up the mood, and she couldn't help but laugh. She rested her forehead against his chest and slid her arms around his neck, inhaling his scent.

While she had no control over what happened in the past, she could control the future, which is why she vowed that day to be the one person he could always count on. She could only hope that it wasn't too late.

"Let's go," she said, tugging on his hand.

_**# # #**_

Much to her surprise, Greg actually helped her make breakfast. After they'd enjoyed the meal together, he also insisted joining her in the shower, claiming that it would be more time efficient that way. She should have known that the opposite would come true.

It started innocently enough with him soaping up her arms, but before long, his hands started wandering all over her body. Despite the hot stream of water, she got goose bumps, as he ghosted his fingertips across her ribcage. Not to be outdone, she poured a liberal amount of shower gel on her hands and proceeded to rub it across any expanse of his skin she could reach.

House leaned down and captured her lips, pressing her body tightly against his. There was something utterly erotic about the hot water beating down on her skin, making her tingle all over, and the feel of his damp, slippery body against hers. His kisses were not insistent, merely an exploration, and she was more than willing to participate.

He pushed her against the wall, the cold tiles making her shiver, but she didn't mind. A sigh escaped her lips as he entered her, and she wound her arms around his waist to help him balance. He braced himself against the wall for support, and caught her eye, when he started moving inside her. Slowly, so as not to slip, and with a purpose. Catching his lips in another kiss, Cameron closed her eyes, and focused solely on the myriad of sensations running through her body. The shower doors got blurry due to the warm steam that hung in the air.

It was all too much for her, two more thrusts and she fell over the edge, taking him with her. Soft kisses were exchanged as they waited for their heartbeats to return to normal. Noticing her shivers, he moved them back under the steady stream of hot water. They stayed there, until the water suddenly turned cold and they scurried out of the shower, wrapping themselves in warm towels.

* * *

**A/N:** _How do you know you're obsessing? I was reading a book a while ago that was an interview with the Dalai Lama, and guess what was the first thing I thought of when he explained the bodhisattva. So here we are. . . . _

_We'll take a look at how things are at the hospital in the next chapter. I believe something light-hearted and humorous is in order after all the seriousness and philosophising of the previous chapters. _

_I am once again swamped with work, so it might take a while to update. In the meantime, you can check at the end of my profile how the chapter is progressing (that is, once it starts progressing). _


	60. It's All Fun and Games

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I think I may have died a couple of times during the past two months. I'm usually not one to complain . . . actually I am . . . but I'm not one to despair, so it means something when I say I was very concerned at some point._

_But I survived! And here's a new chapter for you, hopefully, it will make you smile._

* * *

**Chapter 60 - It's All Fun and Games**_  
(Month 4, Week 4)_

_Dare to err and to dream. Deep meanin__g often lies in childish plays. ~ __Friedrich Schiller_

"It's never going to work," said Cameron.

"Oh, ye of little faith. I've been perfecting my art of clinic duty avoidance for years," answered House.

Cameron smiled. "I know you have, but Cuddy's been perfecting her art of tracking you down for just as long. I've seen her this morning, and she didn't look all that happy."

"Doesn't surprise me. I owe her 15 hours," House informed her nonchalantly.

Cameron frowned. "But you said . . . ."

He shrugged. "I lied."

She gave him that stern look that made him want to rip her clothes off instead of making him feel guilty, which he assumed was her intention. But hiding behind a bed curtain in the ER, he realised it was probably not the best place for that sort of activity. So instead, he gave her an innocent smile.

Cameron shook her head. "You'll never make it."

"Watch me," he said with a smirk, gave her a quick peck on the lips and crept out of their enclosure _Mission Impossible_ style.

As it happened, they hadn't had a case for several days, and he had to keep himself entertained. It was strange how one moment, they were swamped with cases, and the next, there were none. Technically, that was not entirely true. There were plenty of requests at all times, but at the moment, there were none that would intrigue him. Or were forced on him. Apparently, no donors had fallen deathly ill and needed his urgent assistance. Just as well.

Now, where to hide? His usual hiding places wouldn't do. Over the years, he's learned enough about the determination of women, and Cuddy's determination, to know that some creative thinking was in order, or else he'd have her screeching at him full throttle. Not that it ever did anything but amuse him.

Rounding a corner, he found himself in front of the Paediatrics playroom. He froze as an idea occurred to him, which was immediately followed by a self-satisfied smirk. He had found his hiding place.

He barely had time to enter the room and glance around, before a boy of around 8 asked him, his voice lacking any sense of manners, "Who are you?"

House looked down at the red mop of hair sitting behind a small desk, and mimicked the boy's tone, "The fairy godmother."

"No, you're not," Logan (as House was to learn later on was his name) argued.

"Have you ever seen her?"

Logan frowned. "No . . . ."

"Exactly."

House walked over to the desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down. The two girls who were playing with dolls in the corner tried to stifle their giggles. He was about to ask what was so funny, when he felt something wet seep through his pants. He jumped up with an impressive agility for a cripple, but alas, it was too late. The puddle of green paint that had covered the chair has been successfully transferred to his jeans. House glared at Logan, who did nothing to cover his smile.

"You could've warned me, you know," he said bitterly, but the boy just shrugged and continued painting.

_*several hours later *_

Cameron walked into the playroom with a Reuben in hand. Immediately, a smile crept upon her lips as she saw Greg playing Snakes and Ladders with a small red-haired boy.

"Now, that's not possible. No one is that lucky," complained House as Logan climbed up yet another long ladder.

The boy grinned and handed him the dice.

Having become aware of a presence, House lifted his gaze.

"Hey," said Cameron as she smiled at him, handing him the sandwich.

"How did you know I was here?" House asked suspiciously.

"Instinct," she replied as she sat down next to him.

House narrowed his eyes at her, and eventually, she caved. "All right, I checked several of your usual hiding spots before I came here."

"Good, then I'm safe here," he mumbled after biting into his sandwich.

"I wouldn't bet on that."

"You planning to rat me out?"

"No, but . . . The day's still young, and, you know . . . It's not over until the fat lady sings."

"Well, then you'd better go stuff a sock in Cuddy's mouth or something."

Cameron frowned. "Cuddy's not fat. . . ."

"Have you seen her ass lately?"

She was about to shake her head with amusement, when she remembered they had an observer.

"You shouldn't talk like that. There are children around."

House made an exaggerated expression that was a mix of guilt and surprise before answering, "Oh, I'm sorry. Cuddy's Aunt Fanny had a lot of baggage the last time she was in town, didn't she?"

Cameron covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

"Who's Cuddy?" Logan interjected.

House turned his gaze to the kid. "She's the one in charge of this place. Rumour has it she's a witch. During the day, she's in her office concocting evil potions in her cauldron, and during the night, she roams the hallways on her broomstick," House whispered conspiratorially.

"Greg, you'll scare him," Cameron warned.

The boy's eyes widened. "I think I saw her last night," he admitted with a trembling voice.

Feeling Cameron's elbow make contact with his ribs, House reluctantly added, "But she never harms kids. So you're safe."

There was evident relief on the boy's face.

"She much prefers torturing me," House muttered under his breath.

_*later that day*_

House shot daggers at his pager, as if that could make it reveal the truth: Did they really have a case, or was it just an evil ploy to drag him out of his hiding place? Receiving a second page from Allison, he was more inclined to believe the former option, even though one could never know for sure. He reluctantly stood up and made his way towards the Diagnostics Department, running into Chase along the way.

"Where have you been? We've been trying to reach you for half an hour," Chase complained.

"Neverland," House replied as he breezed past him.

Unable to stop himself, Chase called after him, "Your ass is green," which effectively made House stop in his tracks and look at the young doctor strangely.

"Is that some kind of British insult? Because it doesn't make any sense."

Chase made an effort to disregard House's jibe. "No, literally. It's green."

House swatted at his pants and sighed. "Wilson's leaving his body paint all over the place again."

Leaving a confused Chase behind, House marched into the conference room, and the first thing he saw, much to his dismay, was . . .

"Hello, Dr. Cuddy," he greeted with fake sincerity.

"Clinic duty. Now."

"No can do, Cuddles. I have a case."

"No. You don't," she replied firmly, for the first time revealing a trace of a smirk.

Beaten at his own game.

He glanced at Allison only for her to confirm what he already knew.

She shook her head, a compassionate smile on her lips.

Even the best fail sometimes, thought House, as he walked out of the door, already plotting his revenge.

* * *

**A/N:** _The good news is that I have next week off, but the bad news is that I have a ton of work to do for the upcoming month. It's the last one with lectures which means tests, exams, last minute papers and presentations . . . And then June is the exam month, so . . . if I disappear again for this long you'll know why. Let us hope it won't come to that, but either way, I'll be back._ :)


	61. Fade in Fade out

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_You know how little girls always wish for a pony, a unicorn, or a castle? Well, I've always wished for photographic memory. While intelligence will get you from A to C fairly quickly, and make many people jealous in the process, photographic memory will get you from A to Z in half the time. Actually, scratch that . . . (just leafing through the materials for some of the subjects takes hours if not days) I wish knowledge operated under the principle of osmosis. But I guess we just can't always get what we want, huh? _

_Anyway, after a gruelling month of up to 5 exams per week and up to 3 per day (it was almost as much fun as it sounds), I have finally managed to finish this chapter. Go me! Perhaps it's not loaded with action, but it's relatively long so . . . . __Read, comment, complain, do a happy dance, throw tomatoes at me, buy me a pony . . . The choice is yours. _

* * *

**Chapter 61 – Fade in - Fade out**_  
(Month 5, Week 1)_

With the turn of a page in her book, the front door flew open. House walked in, dropped his gym bag along the way, and without further ado, plopped onto the couch, not forgetting to place a pillow on Cameron's lap before making himself comfortable. His hair was still damp, she noticed.

This was their new routine. All part of the rehab programme. She could still hardly believe that he'd ever . . . Well, he had his conditions. Number One being: No Quacks. In House-speak that meant that she would supervise his exercises. At first, she argued that she was not qualified and that he would have better success with a proper physiotherapist. But there was no budging him when he set his mind on something, so she eventually caved, thinking that it was still a step forward. More than one, as she realised later on.

The book now lay discarded at her side, her fingers running through his hair.

She had half a mind, then, to jokingly ask him, "Who's the naïve one now?" But some things are better left unspoken. Like his silent gift of trust.

The last remaining droplets that hadn't dried off yet now coated her fingers.

Part of their new routine was also swimming sessions at the University's pool. He never said it, but she suspected he enjoyed the new found freedom of movement. Not that he needed to tell her, she could see it in his changed demeanour. Completely care-free. It made her wonder what if . . . but she quickly stifled those thoughts. If she was to be his rock, there was no place for negativity . . . bitterness. Yet, she could now better appreciate how difficult it was for him to find joy . . . to look forward to anything.

The tiles felt cold under her feet, and slippery. She tried not to fall as she quickly made her way towards the shimmering water. Goosebumps broke out on her skin as she stopped at the edge, clad only in a black bikini. She quickly slid into the water, hoping it would warm her chilled body, but she quickly found that it was even colder than the air. She was about to voice her complaints, when Greg emerged from beneath the surface in front of her and wound his warm arms around her.

She clung to him and spoke quietly, "Will you at least tell me how illegal this is? Is it jail-worthy?"

He laughed softly and replied, "Don't worry. Last time I checked, conjugal visits were still allowed."

She knew it was nothing, just him teasing her. But being who she was, she felt bad enough about sneaking into the pool area in the middle of the night. She should have said no, but that proved to be more than challenging when it came to him. There were moments when she feared he was corrupting her, making her a worse person, but the more she thought about it, the more she began to doubt it. He placed a gentle kiss upon her lips, and that's when she understood it: Only now was she truly alive.

Ever since Mathew's death, she was merely sleep-walking. Focusing only on the day at hand, simply trying to survive. It wasn't much of a life, she knew that, but she didn't have the energy to make a change. The irony was that she was saved by a guy who seemed to think even less of life than she. Still, he saved her. It came to her then with absolute clarity that that was why she loved him. Even before she became conscious of her feelings for him, he began exerting his influence upon her. Recharging her will to live. From that very first day, when she made such a fool of herself. She wondered how her life would have turned out if he hadn't chosen her then, but she quickly pushed that idea out of her mind. She didn't want to think about it, because nothing could beat this: holding him close in the pool with no one around and the lights turned off, even though the water was freezing cold. In fact, she was grateful for the chilling droplets clinging to her skin, because if it weren't for them, he'd see two distinct moist trails run down her cheeks.

Yes, she would join him sometimes on his midnight excursions, but not today. Despite everything, she still couldn't quite help but feel guilty at times. Yet at the same time, she was glad that he kept up with the programme and with minimal encouragement (that is, "threats") needed at that. Glancing down at his face, she noticed that he fell asleep. Her fingers trailed a path across his forehead, following the line of his cheeks, feeling his stubble scratch at her fingertips. There were two types of men: those who looked unkempt when unshaven and those who looked even more dignified. (Not to mention sexy.) He was clearly of the latter type. Her fingers then traced the curve of his lips. It almost made her wish he were awake, so that her own lips could replace her fingers.

"Push! C'mon. Once more. . . ."

House grunted through his clenched teeth as he completed the last repetition of the exercise. Lowering his leg to the floor, he grimaced, clutching his thigh and waiting for the pain to subside.

Cameron, who was crouching by his side, covered his hand with hers and gave him a lingering kiss.

"You did good," she said soothingly and began stroking his hair with her other hand.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he suddenly asked through gritted teeth.

"What?" she questioned, frowning.

"You made it sound like I'm in labour."

Cameron laughed heartily as relief washed over her. As long as he could joke, he was fine. She waited by his side until his breathing calmed down, all the while comforting him with her soft touch.

He opened his eyes then and said, "How about that massage now?"

A smile graced her lips as she replied teasingly, "Sure, but you should shower first. You stink."

"And who's fault is that?" he complained, but nevertheless got up on his feet and slowly made his way towards the bathroom.

Cameron shook her head, still as disbelieving as she had been when he first told her he was up for it, for whatever she had in store for him. But he stuck to it and she couldn't have been more proud of him than she was right then. The pain alone had to be enough to dishearten most. At times she had to close her eyes and think away his grunts to prevent herself from calling the whole thing off. Even though she knew it was all in his best interest, it was never easy to watch someone you love suffer, especially if you were the instigator. But he more than came through.

She pushed the door open and walked into the bedroom. The sheets were still rumpled from their 'afternoon delight', as he liked to refer to it. Opening the nightstand, she began preparing everything.

The scent of lavender permeated the air, cast by two small flickering flames, as she began kneading his muscles. The massage oil warmed her hands as it heated up, her fingers smoothly gliding over his strong back muscles. She took her time, tracing every ridge and contour, varying the amount of pressure. She let the sound of his breathing and his moans of pleasure be her guide, and then the subtle groans of discomfort and hitches in his breath as she worked on his thigh, trying to calm the angry throbbing. And by the time she was done, there was a calm expression on his face. She crawled up the bed and kissed him softly.

"I think you missed a muscle," he said and when she looked into his eyes, she noticed that that mischievous twinkle was back.

"Have I?" she asked coyly.

"You most certainly did."

"Well then," she said, as she began tracing patterns on his chest, "I'd better remedy that then."

"Mmm," was all he could say as she began kissing, licking and nibbling her way down his chest, the taste of honey and vanilla strong on her tongue.

A delicate blush tinted her cheeks as she opened her eyes. Her mind had wandered off yet again. It seemed to do a lot of that lately.

Just as she contemplated how lucky she was that he was still asleep, he opened his eyes and met hers dead on, piercing her with his stare. Did he know?

* * *

**A/N:** _So, here's the good news . . . yes there is always sunshine after rain . . . I only have 1-2 exams next week and then I'm done for (fairly literally) until the end of August when there'll be more of this fun. But before that, I'll really try to speed up the updates, as I'm really anxious to finish this story. _

_Next chapter: a day at the hospital featuring Chase and Wilson - lots of fun, picking on Chase, a confused House and an all-knowing Wilson . . . and possibly some smut as well _


	62. What Is This Thing Called Love?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_There be smut in the middle of this chapter. You've been warned, if anyone wants to skip it . . . or skip right to it._ :)

* * *

**Chapter 62 - What Is This Thing Called Love?**_  
(Month 5, Week 2)_

Cameron was observing the cascading black liquid as it slowly filled her cup, when she heard footsteps behind her. She stepped aside for Chase to pour himself a cup as well.

"So, how are things with House? Everything going well?" he asked, as she was stirring in some sugar.

She briefly glanced at him and answered cautiously, "Everything's fine. . . ."

"Good. Good," he repeated himself, the words lacking the appropriate sentiment.

She observed the spiralling of the hot liquid as he stirred his cup of coffee.

Finally he stopped and looked at her. "Because you know . . . if there's anything bothering you or . . . well, if anything's wrong you can always talk to me."

She smiled disbelievingly and shook her head. "This is your master plan? Waiting for us to have a fight so I can run into your arms and never leave?"

"You don't seriously think this is going to last?"

Inadvertently, he hit the bull's eye, making her feel defensive. "What do you know?"

"I know House," Chase answered with a tinge of sympathy in his voice.

Her teaspoon now raised almost threateningly in mid-air, she spoke, "You know nothing. None of you really know him."

She was about to walk away from him when his words made her freeze: "Does he really love you?"

She turned back to look at him, lost for words.

"Did he tell you he loves you?"

Her mouth opened in a futile attempt at something, even if a lie, when the man of the hour strolled into the room and made his way directly towards her. Chase scrambled behind the conference room table as House joyfully greeted her, "Hello, dear."

He stopped in front of her, took the coffee from her hand, placing it upon the counter, and pushed her towards the desk. She clung to him as he lifted her up on the table, right in front of a startled Chase, and passionately kissed her. She ran her hands up his shirt and tangled them in his hair while he slid her closer to his body. She was only faintly aware of retreating footsteps as his tongue entered her mouth, inviting her into oblivion.

When their lips parted, she was still in a daze, struggling to catch her breath, but he wasted no time, trailing kisses down her exposed neck.

"We can't do this here," she whispered.

He moved away enough to be able to look at her. "Did you have your lunch break yet?"

"No."

"Then we have just enough time to get to the apartment and back here."

She didn't have a chance to respond as he immediately lifted her from the table and nearly dragged her with him.

**_# # #_**

She was still shaken up from the wild bike ride, but that only served to heighten her arousal. Grabbing him by his collar, she walked him backwards until he hit the side of the couch and fell over the armrest. In a flash, she was on him with a predatory look on her face.

"Whoa," he commented, thrown off balance by her ardour.

She simply leaned down and kissed him, tracing his lips with her tongue. He groaned, winding his arms around her lithe body.

Their tongues waged a war while she deftly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. Yanking him into an upright position, she stripped it off him and tossed it across the room, quickly followed by his T-shirt. Pushing him back into a lying position, she attacked his neck while clawing down his chest. He could concentrate just enough to rid her of her vest and shirt, and then her hand reached his jeans and he lost all ability to think. From then on, everything seemed to come in flashes as he struggled to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time.

Her pants had come off, his belt was loose and his fly open, her hand roaming its confines. Her hand stroking his erection before she sunk down on it. And then her riding him into a frenzy. He wanted to tell her to slow down, but nothing escaped his lips except for strangled moans. Giving in to her, he placed his hands on her hips and let her take him over the edge with a few measured violent thrusts. She kept moving as his body trembled beneath her, until he went limp, gasping for breath.

When he was able to open his eyes again, he saw the smooth expanse of her back as she gathered her clothes and redressed. He pulled his pants up and stood up, snaking his arms around her middle, and placed a kiss on her right shoulder.

**_# # #_**

"I think I'm dying," were the first words he uttered when he walked into Wilson's office the following day.

His friend leaned back in his chair and asked, "What makes you think that?"

"There was this hot chick in the clinic and I didn't want to sleep with her," House explained with a true sense of fear in his voice.

Wilson, on the other hand, immediately felt relief. Trust House to blow everything out of proportion.

"Maybe she wasn't that hot."

"She looked like Gisele Bündchen!"

A satisfied smile appeared on Wilson's lips.

"What?" House inquired, agitated.

"Nothing," Wilson replied, the smile never leaving his lips.

"Oh, come on. . . . I practically saw the light bulb go off. You've got an idea," he accused him.

"You're not going to like it. . . ."

"I don't care. Gimme."

"You may have lost interest in women because there is one particular woman who's occupying your mind."

"Who?"

"Cuddy."

House frowned. "What? Cuddy's not . . ."

"Allison, you idiot. For such a smart guy you really can be dense sometimes. You're in love with her."

House kept staring blankly at Wilson for several moments until he responded tersely, "No I'm not."

"You're not interested in other women, you get jealous when other men pay too much attention to her, you miss her when she's not around and are happy when she is. You find yourself doing all these nice things for her that you'd never do for anyone else and when she looks at you that special way your stomach seems to do a series of summersaults worthy of Olympic gold. . . . That's how love presents," Wilson finished with a flourish.

House stood impassively, listening to his friend's ode à l'amour.

"You . . . are a lousy doctor. No wonder half of your patients die," he replied sullenly before he walked out of the door, leaving Wilson to laugh at his antics.

* * *

**A/N:** _Next chapter will mark the beginning of a new mini arc. Time to move things forward a bit. _


	63. Who's Calling?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _The song featured in this chapter is "Crazy" by Patsy Cline. You should look it up – to broaden your horizons if nothing else. And Don Williams aka. The Gentle Giant is pretty cool too, especially his signature song: "Some Broken Hearts Never Mend". Let's hope that doesn't hold true for our two heroes._

* * *

**Chapter 63 –Who's Calling?**_  
(Month 5, Week 3)_

"Honey?"

"Yes, dear?"

"No, I meant, 'do you want honey in your tea?'," Cameron clarified, only to notice House grinning at her from the doorway.

"Didn't I mention already that I don't like tea?"

"Only every 30 seconds, but you have a fever."

"My temperature is barely elevated. And I bet it's just because you make me all hot and bothered."

"Nice try, but you're still drinking the tea."

House sighed theatrically and made his way back into the living room, when something caught his eye. There was a CD case lying on top of the books on one of the shelves. He picked it up and traced the inscription: _Something to remind you of home._

"What's this?" he asked, as he heard her walk into the room.

Handing him his teacup, she took the case and smiled fondly.

"Oh, that's what my Dad sent me during my first week of college. It's just a bunch of songs."

"Anything good?" House inquired as he walked towards the entertainment centre and inserted the CD.

"Just oldies, country . . . that sort of thing. My Dad's always loved that stuff," she answered as she sat down on the couch, clutching her own cup of tea.

Don Williams' soothing voice spread throughout the room, and House nodded in approval.

"I already like the guy."

Fifteen minutes later, House was sprawled across the couch with Cameron lying on top of him, resting her head on his chest. The music was still playing softly in the background.

"My parents used to listen to these songs all the time. I still remember one day . . ." Cameron began, but was suddenly overcome with a fit of laughter.

House gently tucked away some loose strands of her hair behind her ear, which made her look at him and smile.

"I think I was 5 or 6 when I walked into the living room one morning. There was music playing, which meant that my parents had to be close by. And they were . . . making out on the couch. . . . I've never seen two people jump up so fast. And then they rushed on to explain it away. My Dad insisted that something fell in my Mom's eye and he was just trying to get it out. And I believed them too, at the time."

It was then that the song came on which oddly captivated her during a certain period of her studies. She could never quite comprehend why, but now it seemed more than appropriate. She began to sing along, the words falling softly from her lips: "_Crazy, I'm crazy for feeling so lonely. I'm crazy, crazy for feeling so blue."_

She felt him tense, probably in recognition of the song, but she couldn't stop. Not now.

"_I knew you'd love me as long as you wanted. And then someday you'd leave me for somebody new." _

The words poured out on their own, offering a welcome relief to all of her bottled-up emotions.

"_Worry, why do I let myself worry? Wond'ring what in the world did I do?"_

And he sensed it – his hands that had previously been trailing the curve of her spine had now stopped, as if in anticipation of what was to come.

"_Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you."_

His breathing was calm, controlled, composed; almost mechanic. It was his heart that betrayed him; beating strong against her eardrum.

"_I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying and I'm crazy for loving you."_

Bittersweet. That's what they were.  
_"Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you. I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying and I'm crazy for loving you."_

The song ended, marking the end of the CD, and a deathly silence descended upon the room. There was a dreamlike quality to it – with House's warmth as the only thing that still grounded her in reality.

And then the phone rang. She felt him shift beneath her and allowed him to relish the distraction. She watched with a wry smile as he went to answer the insistent ringing, his back to her.

"Hi . . ." he said into the phone, and then paused mid-greeting as if he was cut off.

He cautiously turned to face Cameron, a look of fear mingled with concern on his face as he asked the next question, "Who told you that?"

* * *

**A/N:** _Short AND with a cliff-hanger? Boy, you must really hate me now._ :)

_Free cyber muffins for anyone who guesses the identity of the caller._


	64. Course: Set for Disaster

**Disclaimer: **_Nope._

**A/N: **_Ah, I see cliffhangers get you all riled up. So, the suggestions were: Chase, Wilson, Cuddy, House's mom and Stacy. Let's see who was right._

* * *

**Chapter 64 – Course: Set for Disaster**_  
(Month5, Week3)_

"_Hi . . ." he said into the phone, and then paused mid-greeting as if he was cut off. _

_He cautiously turned to face Cameron, a look of fear mingled with concern on his face as he asked the next question, "Who told you that?" _

Cameron was not given much time to wonder about the identity of the caller, as her cell phone started ringing as well.

It was her mother.

"Hey Mom," she greeted, while sneaking a glance at Greg.

"_Don't you 'hey Mom' me, Allison. You got married and you didn't invite me? You didn't even tell me?"_

Half in shock, she stared at Greg who hung his head and sighed, "It's true."

"_Allison?"_

"I'm here. . . . Look, Mom . . . I don't know what to tell you. . . ."

"_I thought we were a family. . . ."_

"We are. . . . It's just . . . Everything happened so fast . . ."

"_We've talked on the phone often enough, and you haven't even mentioned that you were dating someone."_

Cameron wished that she could simply crawl in some dark corner and never come out. And looking at Greg, she could tell he shared her sentiments.

"I didn't think you'd approve . . ."

"_Because he's your boss?"_

"Uh. . . . How do you even know that?"

"_I got a call from someone. Dr. James Wilson. He said he's your . . . husband's . . . friend and that he felt he should inform me of this. It hurts me that I have to find out from a complete stranger that my daughter got married."_

"I'm really sorry Mom. . . ." And she was. Her mother was never supposed to find out.

"_Well, you'll have an opportunity to explain yourself next week."_

"Next week?"

"_Me and your Father will fly over, and we'll share a nice meal with you two and your husband's parents. Everything is already arranged."_

"I. . . ."

"_Have a lovely weekend."_ And the line went dead.

Cameron was left staring into nothingness as the new information gradually sunk in.

"Your mother?" House's voice shook her out of her stupor, and she slowly turned her head, feeling the weight of the world upon her shoulders.

"Yes. Yours?"

He nodded gravely, but then all of a sudden jumped up and started gathering his things: the first pair of sneakers he could find, a jacket and his car keys.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asked in shock.

"I'm going to strangle that weasel."

Upon noticing her confused look, he clarified, "Wilson ratted us out."

"I know."

He was nearly out of the door, when he turned around and asked, "You coming or not?"

Cameron sighed and decided she better go with him. Just in case.

_**# # #**_

Wilson's door nearly gave out under House's insistent pounding. Judging by the chagrined look on his face from the very moment he opened the door, he must have expected them.

"What on earth were you thinking? Were you out of needy people and though it would be fun to screw up my life? Or were you just plain bored, because if that's the case, I know of some girls that would love to entertain you for a nominal fee."

Wilson took a step back, seeing how worked up House was. "Calm down. . . ."

"No, I'm not going to calm down! I know you have this insatiable need to keep saving me, and that you think you know what's best for me . . . and that you just love to plot all these . . . elaborate schemes, but this time you went too far. This is my life. Stay out of it."

With that, he stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

After several moments of heavy silence, Wilson finally spoke, "Whoa . . . I didn't expect that. . . ."

Cameron sighed, momentarily feeling sorry for the guy. "What did you think would happen?"

"I just wanted him to stop playing his role."

"I thought you've learned by now that you can't make him do anything he doesn't want to."

Wilson shifted his weight awkwardly and lowered his gaze.

"Look. . . . I know that you were just trying to help, but please . . . don't."

His eyes slowly met hers once again. "And what. . . . You're just going to wait till the end?"

"Yes."

"And if he doesn't do anything then?"

Wilson kept his eyes on the door for a long time after she'd walked out.

_*one week later*_

"Here, let me."

Cameron took hold of the two ends of House's tie to save him from his misery.

He muttered a quiet "Thanks" in return.

After a week filled with anxiety and tension, the D day finally came. With only half an hour left until the dinner from hell, they both hurried to finish the last preparations.

Cameron was worried enough herself, but she'd never seen House so ghastly pale.

The tie now neatly in place, she gently placed her hands upon his shoulders.

"It's just one night. We'll survive."

His eyes connected with hers.

"One night in Café Spiletto. Wilson has some twisted sense of humour. After tonight, I'll never come anywhere near that place again," he commented, referring to their dreadful date, now more than a year ago.

An involuntary smile graced her lips. She could only wish she were as confident as she had been that night. This time, she feared they truly were headed for a disaster.

"And I'm sorry for everything my Dad will say or do."

There was fear mingled with shame in his voice, which, for her, was the biggest cause for concern. What could make even the great Gregory House crumble?

"I'm sure he'll be fine. He seemed like a nice enough guy when I met him."

"Yeah," House replied and limped off to grab his cane.

"He's delightful."

* * *

**A/N: **_House's mom it was! A chocolate-chipped muffin with extra chocolate for all those who guessed it, and a regular muffin for all those who valiantly gave it a try (I'm feeling generous today)! I've actually already written the next chapter so it should be up by the end of this week. _


	65. D Day

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

* * *

**Chapter 65 – D-Day**_  
(Month 5, Week 4)_

His knuckles have turned white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his posture tense with his eyes staring straight ahead through the windshield. Outside, several dozen feet from the car, the brightly-lit windows of Café Spilleto welcomed their guests.

Cameron softly placed her palm on House's thigh.

"We'll make it through. One way or another," she said in an attempt to calm his nerves.

When he didn't move, she tried again, "Come on, Greg. What's the worst thing that can happen?"

He faced her then, with a look that proclaimed, "You don't want me to answer that."

He was right. She didn't, but they hardly had a choice.

Leaning closer to him, she placed a tender kiss on his lips and whispered, "We'll make it through."

The restaurant was just as he remembered it, full of pretentious people and wannabe pretentious people pretending, pretending, pretending. . . . If you wanted to see the top theatre piece in town, this was the place to be.

Every nerve in his body screamed at him to get away, but then Cameron tugged on his arm and led him towards an older couple sat behind a nearby table. Her parents, no doubt. He took a moment to take them in – her, an average-sized woman slightly on the round side with voluminous curly blonde hair, and him, a tall, strong man with grey hair and a moustache, both in their late 50's.

Unfortunately for House, both of them looked up before he had a chance to make a mad dash towards the nearest exit, and beamed at Cameron. They seemed genuinely pleased to see her, though House had no doubt that once the initial pleasantries were over, the scolding would begin. Her mother was instantly on her feet, hugging her daughter tightly with her father following shortly. House desperately hoped they would not notice him, but it was all in vain, because suddenly, all eyes were on him.

Cameron stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his back.

"Mom, Dad, this is Greg House. Greg, this are my Mom, Joy and my Dad, George."

House dutifully shook their hands and greeted them.

And then the moment came that he dreaded most – his parents entered the restaurant. His father scouted the room until he spotted him and then marched towards them with his wife under his arm. "Here we go . . ." House thought to himself.

Several more minutes of polite nice-to-meet-you's later, they were all sat down, waiting for their food to arrive.

"I remember you, Allison. We've met at the hospital when we went to visit Greg," Blythe broke the gathering tension.

Allison put on her best smile and nodded.

"You work for my son," John House added.

Another courteous nod.

Blythe quickly took over before John had a chance to say too much. "How long have you been working together?"

Allison thought back before she answered. "Two years. A bit more. . . ."

"Then there is no need to ask how you two met."

This time, a genuine smile graced Cameron's lips.

"I was looking for a fellowship at the time, and I couldn't believe my luck when I heard Greg had an open position."

She looked at House and smiled once he caught her gaze.

"I'm sure you know that your son is a bit of a celebrity in the medical circles. . ."

"Yeah, just like Mick Jagger," House interrupted her.

"I was called in for an interview and that's how we first met. I was beside myself when he said I was hired."

"That's an understatement," House muttered under his breath.

"Can I ask how old you are, Greg?" Mr. Cameron spoke, breaking the storm clouds.

"George. . . ." his wife admonished him.

"No, I'd like to know that too. How old are you Allison?"

House turned to his father with every ounce of confidence and determination he could muster. "There's 19 years between us."

John House sported a sardonic smile as he commented, "I always knew you liked them young, but I never would've picked you for a cradle robber."

Cameron quickly grabbed House's hand and replied heatedly, "With all due respect Mr. House, but it's been a long time since I last played with dolls. We're both adults and the age difference changes nothing."

The entire table was slightly taken aback by her comeback, while House, more than anything, felt proud of her for standing up to his father.

"Wow, you have some spunk. I've always admired people with a backbone, which makes me wonder what you're doing with my son."

"Nice one," House said bitterly.

"John, please. . . ."

But John House paid no heed to his son or his wife.

"Are you in it for the money, the job. . .?"

"I'm not . . ." she began to defend herself when House jumped in.

"That's it. You can trash me all you want, but leave Allison out of this. She's the one decent person in my life and the only one who's always stood by me no matter what."

"And I'm sure you haven't made it easy for her."

The two men stared into each other's eyes for several heated seconds before John House averted his gaze and turned to Cameron.

"You seem like a nice girl, and it would be a shame if you wasted your life on someone like my son. He's never been the most reliable or dependable person. He's caused his mother and me more grief and disappointment over the years than he's worth."

The chair screeched loudly as House pushed back from the table.

"I'm done with this," he said, threw his napkin on the table and walked out.

Cameron took an audible breath before she spoke, "Your son is a great person. And if you weren't so focused on making him someone he's not and actually took the time to get to know him, you'd know that too. I love Greg, and no matter what happens between us, I'll never regret marrying him."

And with that, she walked out of the restaurant as well.

Reaching the cool night air, she felt she could finally breathe again. After taking a couple of moments to calm down, she looked around and noticed him in one of the darker corners of the parking lot, leaning heavily against a wall.

She walked towards him and asked quietly, "Are you ok?"

"Fine," he answered without looking at her.

She reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his. "Come on, let's go home."

His eyes almost instantly met hers. "What about your parents?"

"I think they'll understand."

As they were walking back towards his car, the thought crossed his mind that she just might be the perfect woman.

* * *

**A/N:** _Ok, here's the thing about the age difference. . . . According to my calculations, there should be about 15 years between them, but in one of the season 1 episodes, House said Chase was 26 at the time. Assuming Cameron is about the same age that makes for 19 years. I think that was yet another of the writers' mistakes, since at 26, one only finishes med school and would need another 3 years or so of residency, but oh well . . ._

_So, tell me . . . was this chapter what you expected it to be or. . . ._


	66. Hurt & Comfort

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

* * *

**Chapter 66 – Hurt & Comfort**_  
(Month 5, Week 4)_

The first thing he did when he entered the apartment was to get rid of the restraints of his clothes. The tie was torn from his neck and tossed in some far away corner, quickly followed by his jacket; his dress pants having been replaced by a pair of jeans before he fell on the bed. Cameron stood at the far end of the bedroom, observing him as he stared at the ceiling.

"I've told you some things about my father. Not everything," he admitted to the quiet room.

She remembered – how he told her his father always looked down on him, expecting the impossible from him. She found it hard to believe that any parent could treat their child like that. . . . All to this day when she saw it all with her own eyes, and it made her sick to her stomach. Now she only found it hard to believe how he could survive in such a home. She understood him now. He found it difficult to give people a chance since his own father never gave him a chance.

She carefully walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"He had some creative punishments for when I didn't live up to his standards."

Her heart stopped, dreading what was to come.

"Ice baths, making me sleep outside barefoot with only my pj on when it was below 40, making me dig a hole and then covering it back up, living on old bread and water for a week, and, of course, the classical beatings. He started with slaps when I was a kid, continued with rods when I was about seven, and when I was twelve, I graduated to a leather belt."

It was eerie how calm his voice was, when all she wanted was to scream out at the injustice. She lay down next to him, placing her head on his chest and her arm across his waist – trying to protect him from the world.

"After a while you get used to the pain. You even find comfort in it . . . so you don't have to focus on other things, like the feeling you're worthless. It's not the pain that hurts the most, but the punishment; the feeling that you'll never be good enough."

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, crumpling the perfectly ironed material, while tears streamed down her cheeks. She knew he could feel them, seeping through the thin cotton.

"It's funny, you know, how people want respect from someone that never respected them . . . and never will. I wanted him to be proud of me, even though I hated him at the same time."

He wound his arms around her, holding her to him. There were things he still kept to himself, like the moments when he blamed his mother for turning a blind eye, for being too weak; or the moments when the darkness got the better of him and he thought about ending it all. It was enough for one day. And . . . perhaps some of those things would be better left unsaid. He didn't have the heart to drag her down with him, because he knew she'd suffer right with him. She's suffered enough.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._ Three rhythmical knocks resounded throughout the apartment.

The couple remained still until another set of loud knocks was heard.

Lifting her head from its resting place, Cameron spoke, "I'll get rid of them."

House only reluctantly let her go which made her even more determined in her pursuit, but even that was not enough when she opened the door and saw her parents and House's mother on the other side.

"Can we come in? The evening didn't go as planned, but we thought we could give it another try," said her mother.

Cameron was in two minds. On one hand, she didn't want to simply send her parents away, and on the other, she knew Greg wouldn't want this. As she was futilely trying to reach a decision, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to look at him, a silent question in her eyes. He nodded his response and she stepped out of the way, letting their parents in.

Blythe immediately fell in step with her son and barely audibly whispered, as for the others not to overhear, "You know your father didn't mean it like that. . . ."

"Don't," House interrupted her angrily. "Stop making excuses for him."

Blythe lowered her head, a portrait of a chagrined older woman, and followed the rest of the group as they settled around the coffee table.

"Did you eat anything before you left the restaurant?" Cameron asked, and House couldn't help but crack a smile. St. Allison Cameron, always polite and thoughtful, even in light of everything that has happened.

It came as no surprise that no one was in a mood to eat at the time, so Cameron and her mother made their way to the kitchen.

Taking advantage of the situation, Joy didn't waste any time, "I am your mother Allison, so I have to ask you . . . Do you honestly love him or is he another. . . ."

Placing the bread on the counter, Cameron turned around with a sigh.

"He's not Mathew, mom."

Joy took a step forward and lightly placed her hand upon Allison's. Her eyes shone with love and concern.

"You can't blame me. . . . The way you hid this marriage from us. . . ."

Tears started welling up in Cameron's eyes as guilt clenched her throat.

"I love Greg," she admitted. "There's no one I'd rather spend my life with."

A single tear left her eye and traced a sinuous path down her cheek.

Joy hugged her daughter, cradling Allison's head against her shoulder. She knew there was more to it, but for now, it was enough.

_*meanwhile*_

Blythe excused herself, which meant House was forced to spend some quality one-on-one time with Cameron's father.

Following his motto: 'If I'm going to go down, I'll go on my own terms,' he quickly cut to the chase, "So, is this the part where you tell me I'm no good for your daughter and that I should stay the hell away from her?"

"Are you dying?"

An unusual question like that should surprise him, but there was nothing usual when it came to him and Allison, so why should it be any different with their parents.

"We're all dying." Only too late did he realise that perhaps it would have been better if he bit his tongue.

Her father remained unfazed. The steady gaze and thick moustache giving an impression of a seasoned general. He was a history teacher, House remembered. He must have seen many great battles.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No," House agreed. "Allison told me you didn't support her first marriage."

"We were worried about her. Still are. Allison is a good person with a generous heart, but sometimes she takes things too lightly. That marriage changed her, it killed a part of her and she never fully recovered."

House nodded solemnly. She was just as damaged as he was. Probably why they found themselves in this situation.

"That's why I need you to tell me that you won't break her heart."

"I think we both know that it's not as simple as that, but . . . I can promise you that I'll never intentionally hurt her if there'll be any other way."

And in his twisted mind, he believed that wholeheartedly. For him, letting her go was the lesser evil. It was him doing the right thing.

* * *

**A/N: **_The next chapter will most likely be part two of this evening as there are still some issues that need to be discussed. It will probably be up next week, but my exams started again, so if there will be any hold-up's, that's why. _


	67. Crossing Bridges

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _There seems to be some confusion, so I thought I'd clear this up. After this chapter, we'll enter month 6, which means there's two more months left, not just one. Yup, two whole months. _

* * *

**Chapter 67 – Crossing Bridges**_  
(Month 5, Week 4)_

Allison entered the room for a final time, holding an open bottle of red wine. She poured a glass for each of them and then joined Greg on the leather chair. The armrest was hardly comfortable, but she preferred to stay as close to him as possible, with their family neatly seated on the couch – the two fronts.

"So, tell us . . . How was the wedding? How did you two get together . . . Everything from the start," Joy prompted the couple.

Greg and Allison glanced at each other. They were so nervous over the whole thing that they forgot to agree on a background story.

Fearing what Greg might come up with, Allison quickly began, "Well, I've liked Greg from the start, so one day I asked him out. . . ."

"She blackmailed me into going on a date with her."

"Allison, is that true?" her mother asked, shocked at the newly revealed information.

Allison felt heat rise in her cheeks.

"It wasn't exactly blackmail. . . ."

She glanced down at Greg who lifted an amused eyebrow at her.

"Ok, fine . . . it was, but he wouldn't go out with me any other way."

"Let me get this straight. . . ." her father jumped in. "Your _boss_ didn't want to start a relationship with you, his subordinate, so you blackmailed him, effectively risking your job and a sexual harassment suit."

Allison meekly glanced at her father. "It sounds so much worse when you put it like that . . . but I wasn't working for him at the time."

"Greg, you fired the poor girl?" Blythe chimed in.

"I didn't fire her. She quit."

"You quit? Why didn't you tell us?"

"Because it happened so fast and I wanted to get a new job before I told you so you wouldn't worry."

"Oh, Allison. . . ."

"But Greg rehired me soon after, so there was no need."

"That's when she posed her special condition. We go on a date or she doesn't come back."

"He must have been very fond of you back then," Blythe said thoughtfully.

Allison felt Greg shift slightly next to her. "Why is that?"

"Greg doesn't let anyone tell him what to do. If he agreed to it, then he must have really wanted you back."

She thought back to that day – to her proposition, the look of surprise on his face and to how readily he agreed to it. All the back and forth between them made her doubt what she knew in her heart to be true, but now, as she looked down at Greg and saw him stare persistently at the floor, it was all the confirmation she needed.

"I've waited so long for someone like you. Someone who would make him stop and listen."

Allison felt pride swell inside her. Blythe's words were the reassurance she needed to keep fighting for him. No one ever said it would be easy, just as no one said that evening would be easy and true enough. . . .

One detailed account of their fictitious relationship and wedding later, Allison's mother felt an irresistible urge to reveal how her daughter used to play wedding with her stuffed animals. Allison's protestations seemed to only serve to spur her on. She didn't even fail to mention how Allison dreamed up this prince charming who would save her life and sweep her off her feet.

"And then she got me."

All eyes focused on him, but he didn't care; he knew what her parents were thinking. They may not have said it out loud, but he definitely wouldn't have been their first pick for their son-in-law. And rightfully so.

"Can I ask what happened to your leg?"

Allison's father turned out to be a very down-to-earth type of guy, all about gathering facts. Not unlike him, but with a touch of politeness that he himself lacked.

"War wound." The words flew out of his mouth on their own, immediately followed by a nudge from Allison.

It was intriguing how Allison's mother kept her husband's bluntness in check. He wondered if he stayed long enough with Allison, would she also learn to curb his lack of tact.

"I had an infarction. They cut a piece of my thigh muscle out and now I'm in constant pain."

They felt sorry for him, all of them. He felt sorry for himself too.

Allison couldn't bare the pain on Blythe's face and felt she needed to offer some consolation to the older woman. "He's been doing better lately. I'm helping him with his rehab. As his muscles get stronger, it hurts less. And he's been taking fewer pills lately."

Greg's head immediately snapped to hers.

She smiled gently. "Don't think I haven't noticed."

She feared she would find anger in his eyes, but there was none.

Their moment was broken by a teary-eyed Blythe. "Thank you. I was trying to stop his self-destructive ways for so long, but he's just too stubborn. At one point I just started expecting a phone call – someone telling me my son had died of an overdose."

She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped her tears while Joy hugged her.

"Mom. . . ."

"It's true, Greg."

"You don't have to worry about that anymore. Your son may be stubborn, but so is our daughter. She'd go to any lengths to help someone she loves," George tried to soothe her.

Blythe nodded gratefully.

"Now enough of that depressing stuff. Let's talk about something happier," Joy decided to lift the spirits. "When can I expect grandchildren?"

"Mom. . . ." Allison instantly jumped away from Greg.

"Oh, I've given up on ever having grandchildren," Blythe gushed, her voice full of hope.

"Mom, please. . . ." Greg shifted further away from Allison as well, his face matching hers in colour.

"Let it go, you two. Can't you see that you're embarrassing them," George came to their rescue.

"I suppose you're right. It still is a bit early into the marriage, but I expect you to call me as soon as you find out you're pregnant," her mother regretfully agreed.

Allison covered her face with her hands. "Ok, mom."

Greg cringed as his mother gave him a disturbingly hopeful look. Little did he know that it was only going to get much worse when embarrassing childhood stories came to light.

He would much rather not find out the incriminating information on Allison if it only meant his mother wouldn't share with her his childhood misadventures, especially stories of the type: how adorable he was when he was a baby.

Not a moment too soon, the evening ended and the couple sighed a sigh of relief as their parents said their goodbyes. Hugs were delivered left and right and as Joy embraced a grudging Greg, she whispered into his ear, "Thank you, Greg. It has been so long since I've seen my daughter this happy. And whatever it is that you're hiding from us, I trust you will tell us when the time is right."

Those few words reverberated in his mind long after their parents had left, making the cogs turn in his mind. And as they lay in bed that night, both contemplating the weight of the day's events, he felt more lost than ever.

"That went well," he commented truthfully to gauge her reaction.

"And what will happen once it's over and we'll have to tell them?"

He felt the heaviness in her heart and it mirrored his.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

That was all he could offer her. That and . . . He took hold of her hand and felt the warm pressure as her fingers curled around his.


	68. Making Amends

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _Sorries, exams got the better of me. _:(

* * *

**Chapter 68 – Making Amends**_  
(Month 6, Week 1)_

You've been looking at the file for the past hour, rereading the information over and over again, yet each time, it yields the same result. You were hoping you had missed something. After all, grasping at straws has always been a part of your job description – delaying the inevitable. That's why your profession has such a high burn out rate. As for you, you cope with it the best you can.

It's hardly easy. Certainly not as easy as House would make it believe. You love helping people, easing their pain – whether because you feel the need to make up for your past mistakes or for a different reason altogether, it doesn't really matter. Perhaps you just have a saviour complex. Either way, your job doesn't come without a price. The truth is that you are just as messed up as House. Each day when you return home after a long and discouraging day at work, all you want is some peace, understanding, love. Something. To forget it all. And that comes with a price too.

Mrs. Grieves is going to die in 6 months. There is nothing you can do.

You close the folder and placed it on top of a neat pile. You are exhausted, but you really don't want to go home to an empty apartment. Not yet. Your weary gaze drifts to the balcony door. The night is unusually bright with the moon illuminating the streets of Princeton. You heave yourself out of your chair, pull open the door and walk onto the balcony. The night air momentarily overwhelms you and you take a deep breath to regain control. The midnight chill awakens all of your senses, making you aware of a presence on the neighbouring balcony.

House and Cameron. You take a step back as not to be seen, and observe, hiding in the shadows. Their arms are wrapped around each other and they seem deaf and blind to the world. This should make you happy, after all, that was the motive behind your plan, but you can't shake that nagging feeling . . . that pang of jealousy at the sight of them. Your best friend has this gorgeous woman while you are still dealing with the aftermaths of your divorce. And what makes it even worse is that you know House will try to sabotage the relationship before long.

You and House are similar in a way, both unable to keep a steady relationship, yet if one took a closer look. . . . You love women, but what you love even more is the feeling of being in love. The rush of hormones, the butterflies in your stomach, the wild beating of your heart – you are addicted to all of them, so you do what every junky does – you are always one the search for that next fix. House, on the other hand, fears this feeling because it means loss of control and what would House be without his precious control. But when he does fall in love, then it's real and violent and it doesn't only shake his world, but also the world of everyone around him. It is funny – you smile at the irony – that House's break-up with Stacy affected you more than your most recent divorce.

House gently kisses Cameron and then tucks her head underneath his chin. You shake your head in amusement. And House dares to call you a romantic?

You really hope the two will make it or you will have to pick up the pieces of two broken hearts. And if that happens, you fear that Cameron will stumble down the same path of despair as House. Sometimes one broken heart too many is all it takes.

_**# # #**_

House and Cameron paused at the door. Sensing his hesitation, Cameron asked him, "Don't you think you've been punishing him long enough?"

"He's an evil conniving weasel."

"And your best friend. You know he was just trying to help."

"He always does."

Cameron sighed and knocked on the door, ignoring House's reluctance. She wasn't too happy with Wilson's actions either but she understood.

The relief on Wilson's face as he opened the door was almost palpable. House still stubbornly stood his ground, so Cameron decided to give him a shove of encouragement.

"Hey, cripple abuse," he complained as he reluctantly entered Wilson's apartment.

If he were truthful, he wasn't really all that angry. It was more about the frustration which slowly bubbled inside him for the past few weeks, demanding to be released, and Wilson practically volunteered himself.

"New lock?"

"Funny story. Apparently I had my lock replaced which I oddly don't remember. I had to spend three nights in a hotel until I was able to prove that I really am James Wilson and not someone trying to swindle his way into the apartment. You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?"

House put on a completely innocent face and replied, "Of course not."

And with that, Cameron knew that all was well between the two friends.

The dinner was pleasant, the food fit for the angels. 'House really wasn't exaggerating when he praised Wilson's cooking', Cameron thought to herself.

After completely emptying his plate, House leaned back and sighed with satisfaction.

"I think I should be angry with you more often."

"It really is delicious, James. Could you give me the recipe?" Cameron complimented him, making Wilson smile.

"Of course."

"Maybe you could also give her a cooking lesson or two. She seems to think I'm Garfield. It is only so often I can eat lasagne before I start resenting it."

She pierced him with her gaze. "At least I can cook."

"Who says I can't? It's hardly rocket science," House retorted nonchalantly.

"Says the guy who burned the toast yesterday."

"That's only because a certain someone was distracting me."

A loud cough made the two glance at Wilson, who looked rather amused and mildly uncomfortable.

"So . . . will you two go to the hospital benefit this month?"

"Allison went behind my back and convinced Cuddy that I'll be there if she gives me two weeks off clinic duty."

Cameron smiled abashedly. "I don't want him to complain the entire night."

"You do know that I'll complain either way?"

Unfortunately, she did.

"How about you James, you going?"

"Yeah, Jimmy. It would be the perfect first date for prospective wife no.4."

Wilson deliberated his next words for several long moments before he spoke, "I actually thought about taking Cuddy. That is, if you don't mind. I mean, I don't think she found anyone yet and as a dean, she'd, well. . . . It would be strictly professional . . ."

"Stop talking," House interrupted Wilson's ceaseless rambling. "I suspect we have a different understanding of what 'professional' means. In my book, it does not include bedroom gymnastics."

"I don't want to sleep with her," Wilson defended.

"Good, because she's a black widow and you still have many more young bold-headed freaks to save before you go."

"That's a no, then?"

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you."

"How about that nurse . . . Brenda?"

House raised his eyebrows. "The Evil Nurse Brenda? Which part of evil don't you get?"

"She's not evil. . . ."

House turned to Cameron in search of confirmation.

"She's not evil," Cameron said with conviction. "She's just . . . strict. But that's what makes her so good at her job."

Satisfied with her answer, House once again focused on Wilson. "I rest my case. I bet she's dynamite in bed. All that unreleased tension. . . ." He looked dreamily into the distance until a perfectly-aimed elbow brought him back to earth.

He smirked and leaned in closer to Cameron to whisper into her ear, "Don't worry, sweetheart, she's got nothing on you. That thing you did with the pineapple last time . . . I don't think I'll ever be able to look at another one without getting in the mood."

Feeling Wilson's curious gaze on her, Cameron blushed a delicate shade of pink.

"Now, where was I . . .? Oh, right. . . . When did you decide to switch from needy women to dominatrixes?"

"Fine, fine. . . . Allison, do you have any single friends who would want to go? Maybe you could put in a good word for me."

"I'm sorry, James, but I can't do that." And she was sorry, but knowing his track record. . . .

Much to Wilson's dismay, House immediately jumped at the chance to rub it in. "Oh, that's got to hurt."

All in all, it was just another leisurely Saturday afternoon.

* * *

**A/N:** _The Huddy-infested season will start here this week. *shudder* I've been thinking if it would be better to just have a marathon and watch the eps online on my computer (something I never ever do) __in a very short succession just to get it over with. . . . Like ripping off a band aid. And yeah, I have to watch it . . . just call me a masochist. _:\_ What do you think?_

_I still have a bunch of things I have to take care of before lectures start in October, but I'll really try to update faster this time. _


	69. If You Could Read My Mind

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _Sorry . . . again. . . . I haven't been feeling all that well lately, so when I wasn't running errands, I spent most of my time in bed. But hey, look at how long the chapter is! *points down* That has to count for something!_

_Oh, and I think a fluffiness warning is in order._

* * *

**Chapter 69 – If You Could Read My Mind**_  
(Month 6, Week 2)_

You can hardly judge a day by its first rays of sunshine, not even if you wake up in the arms of your beloved and the first word that slips into your sleepy mind is 'perfect' – so perfect that you fight the lure of sleep until, finally, you are once again overcome.

Hours later, as she felt his weight upon her – skin on skin – warm, soft, perfect . . . and thought back to the day's events, she knew that even 'perfect' fell short in describing it.

The second time she woke up, she was startled by an empty bed and the smell of pancakes. Barefoot, she padded into the kitchen to find him working his magic behind the stove. She approached him and softly ran her hand down his back while peeking into the pan.

"You know, pancakes are a French way of saying 'I love you'," she said.

"Is that why they call them crap?"

She smiled before replying, "I'll set the table."

But that was not the end of his cooking showmanship. He dispelled all of her doubts about his cooking abilities as he made a surprisingly delicious dinner. They spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the couch, something that quickly became their favourite past-time activity, until he disappeared into the bathroom. After he was gone for more than 10 minutes, Cameron grew curious and went to check on him. She could not be more surprised at what she saw.

The bath was filled to the brim with steaming hot water coated with soapy bubbles while the bathroom was illuminated by about a dozen candles scattered around the room. For a moment, she thought she was dreaming, but as soon as she convinced herself of the reality of the situation, she became suspicious.

"Alright, what did you do?" she demanded.

"Nothing," he defended.

Cameron crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows. In response, House walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips.

"Can't I just do something nice for my girl?"

The soft flickering light upon his face reflected the soft look in his eyes and the whisper of a smile upon his lips.

'You can do anything,' she thought, too dazed to object. And then he kissed her in a way that made her forget everything.

The next thing she knew, she found herself asking, "Care to join me?"

He didn't need to be told twice.

She discarded her last article of clothing and dipped one foot into the steamy water. Immediately she felt the warmth rise up her body. Carefully, she climbed into the tub and submerged her entire body, sighing with content as every part of her began to relax.

"Hey what are you doing way over there?"

Opening her eyes, she saw House give her an expectant look from the opposite end of the tub. She less than gracefully manoeuvred her body into his welcoming arms, causing a significant amount of water to spill over the edge. 'It can wait', she decided. At that moment, she was much too comfortable to move. Closing her eyes, she let everything but the soothing warmth of the water and his loving embrace fade into the background.

The phrase: 'Actions speak louder than words' settled into her mind as she was blow-drying her hair. He has changed in a way that made her feel apprehension. She has spent enough time around him to know that this was nothing like him. She has also spent enough time around him to know that when he acted out of the ordinary, he always had ulterior motives. But then, there was that look in his eyes and the softness in his touch that made her knees weak; they felt more real than anything. She turned off the blow-dryer and sighed. If only she could read his mind.

If she had been at a loss of what to think of his actions before, then she was completely flabbergasted when she entered the living room. The lights were out, the fireplace was crackling away with a bunch of blankets and cushions laid out in front of it, and then there was him walking out of the kitchen with two steaming mugs of . . . cocoa?

"S'mores?" he asked.

"Greg. What did you do?" Each syllable was pronounced carefully, each word stressed.

His smile suggested that he expected nothing less from her. Placing the mugs on a nearby cabinet, he approached her.

"I didn't do anything. I promise."

It really wasn't fair – him winding his arms around her. How was she supposed to argue her point now?

"Then what's the point of all this?" She indicated the room.

"You don't like it?" Hurt flashed across his face so fast that she nearly missed it.

"No, no. . . . I love it, but. . . You never do nice things without an ulterior motive."

"Maybe I just want to see you naked."

That mischievous glint was back and she knew this conversation was effectively over.

"You know you don't have to try this hard to make that happen," she said and gave him a seductive smile.

He smirked. "I'll keep that in mind."

She stared at the flickering flames and sipped the hot chocolate as she waited for him to return with marshmallows. He picked up his own cup on the way and sat down next to her. For several moments, the sounds of the flames engulfing the timber were the only thing breaking the silence and then. . . .

"Allison. . ."

She met his eyes.

"I'm not doing this to atone for anything, I'm not trying to bribe you or . . . whatever else has crossed your mind. Ok?"

She nodded her agreement and then met his lips in a slow kiss.

As they sat by the fire, having their indoor picnic, he couldn't help thinking what a great idea it was. He also couldn't help sneaking glances at her. The amber glow on her skin and the sparks in her eyes as she looked at him. . . .

He lowered his lips to hers, tangling his hand in her hair to pull her closer. As he nudged her lips with his, she immediately parted them, allowing him entrance. His heart started beating faster as he felt the residual heat of hot chocolate on her tongue and its bitter-sweet taste. And then she ended the kiss and murmured, "Why do I taste alcohol?"

'Uh oh,' he thought.

"I spiked my hot chocolate," he murmured against her lips, hoping she won't insist on having _that_ conversation.

"Mmm, I like it," she purred, catching his lips in another kiss.

One by one, their articles of clothing were shed until none were left and she lay there, completely naked with the fire performing a shadow play upon her skin. His fingers endeavoured to trace the elusive ever-changing shapes as he marvelled at how beautiful she looked. Her body was the ultimate canvas and he was Picasso, always tracing new patterns, and filling her body with new stories that begged to be read.

And then he was a potter, gently tracing the lines of her skin. Gently, gently, gently – a work of art that so willingly yielded under his touch; responding to the slightest pressure, the slightest change of direction, the slightest breath brushing against the pliant material. He was moulding her with his life force and she responded like no other.

Admittedly, he was addicted to power and control. He had been, before her. Before her, it was about pleasure and instant gratification and perhaps, sometimes, love. Since her, it was about reverence. He took the time to worship her body. To worship her. Anything other than that felt like blasphemy to him.

He used to relish the power. He took what he wanted and gave something in return, what he deemed to be enough, a fair trade. Always on his terms.

Before, being on the receiving end of a gentle touch made him even more uncomfortable than to be the one inflicting it. Not with her. His continuous struggle to maintain his stone cold veneer was a losing battle with her.

Her hands traced love upon his body and he let her. There were no pretences. He knew what every single touch meant, and he let her. He relished each one as, before, he had relished his sacred power. He let her love him and it was like nothing he had ever experienced.

And as he lay there, on top of her, trying to catch his breath and stop his head from spinning, all tired and sweaty and beyond content, he could just gather enough strength to try to lift himself off her. But she wouldn't let him.

She tightened her hold on him and whispered, "Stay."

He shifted his weight as not to suffocate her and buried his head in the crook of her neck. And stayed. And in that very moment, all he could feel was a lump in his throat and a peculiar warmth in his heart.

House awoke with a start, still acutely aware of every sensation from his dream. Was it a dream? He could swear it felt more real than any dream he ever had before.

He glanced at the woman sleeping next to him. Her left arm was loosely draped across his abdomen. It was strange how every time he woke up, they were touching. Almost as if they were afraid to let each other go. He traced a path up her arm until he reached her cheek. And as he did so, all of his dream emotions bubbled to the surface. He took a deep breath to calm himself. What he remembered most vividly was the complete and utter joy on her face.

Pancakes. Maybe he could start with pancakes and take it from there.


	70. Closure

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N: **_No excuses._

* * *

**Chapter 70 - Closure_  
_**_(Month 6, Week 3)_

She pulled her coat tighter around her body in response to the gushes of the autumn wind. It was odd – almost surreal – to be here after so many years. The tombstone looked worse for wear, a lush green grass interspersed with weeds now covering the previously exposed earth. An odd oak leaf lay here or there.

She kneeled down and placed a single white rose in front of the cold grey stone. Her hand traced the inscription:

_Mathew Shane Seawright  
(1976 – 2000)_

The last time she had been here was on the day of his funeral. It was just as cold then with patches of white snow reminding everyone that the winter had not quite made its farewell yet. The number of mourners could have been counted on a single hand: her, Joe, two other friends and one of his foster parents. She still remembered how numb she had felt inside. Tears had been streaming down her face, yet all she could feel was this pounding emptiness inside her heart. If it hadn't been for Joe, she didn't think she would have made it through the funeral. And then there were days when she wished he hadn't been there because towards the end of that day, she came so close to doing something she'd regret for the rest of her life.

Perhaps it was guilt that drove her away. Perhaps it was denial or the need to put all of this behind her. As it was, she had avoided Joe until the end of her studies and then fled to a different state thinking that would solve all of her problems. How wrong had she been. She still thought about him often, more often than she'd like to admit. But even more often, her thoughts flew to Mathew – to all the times he made her laugh, to the unconditional love in his eyes, and more often than not, to the days (and nights) spent in the hospital or to that dreadful phone call that changed everything.

The memory of him haunted her, yet to this day, she couldn't find the strength within her to visit his grave. It was the finality that got to her. The 'THE END' written in large capital letters and filling the entire screen. Not even all of the happy memories could shield her from that.

The dam broke, the river flooded and relief washed over her. In the end, this was what she needed. Closure. Now she could move on with her life.

She walked up the gentle slope towards the tall man waiting at the top. His eyes followed her ascent, his cane-free hand jammed deep into his coat pocket.

"You ok?" he asked as she reached him.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

_**# # #**_

"Why did you never marry?" Cameron asked as they strolled down a path in Grant Park.

House lifted an eyebrow at her.

"I mean, before me," she clarified. "You were with Stacy for 5 years. That's quite a long time."

He sighed and kept quiet. Just when she started thinking she'd never get her answer, he spoke up.

"Do I look like the marrying type to you?"

She shrugged.

"She didn't want it," he spoke again after a while.

Cameron looked at him in surprise.

"I didn't want it either, but I've asked her if she did and if that would be a problem. She said she liked things the way they were. Easy, simple, living in the moment kind of thing, just enjoying ourselves. Besides, we fought all the time. About anything, really. We were both too stubborn and self-cantered to actually listen to each other and acknowledge each other's opinions."

"I thought you two were happy together."

"We were. When things were good they were great, but when they were bad. . . . Sometimes I really couldn't stand spending another minute with her so one of us would leave for a couple of days. And then once we started missing each other, we'd get together again. The make-up sex was awesome, don't get me wrong, but this kind of thing makes it kind of difficult to plan the future."

"Wow," Cameron breathed out.

"Why are you so surprised? You know I'm not the easiest person to live with."

"I beg to differ."

He looked at her like he thought she were crazy and she smiled at him in return.

"You know, you're actually the first guy I've ever lived with. I did think it would be a disaster when all of this started, but you've been great."

"You either confused me with someone else or you have insanely low standards. Insanely being the key word."

She laughed.

"No, really. You're fun to be around, you give me space when I need it, you don't make too big of a mess . . . most of the time . . . and you help me with the chores . . . sometimes . . . plus you're convenient to have around on cold nights like we've been having lately."

"I knew it. You're just using me instead of your teddy-bear."

"You _are_ much cuddlier."

He glared at her.

"Honestly, do you hate living with me?"

He thought for a moment and then responded, "No, you're quite alright. Definitely a better roomie than Wilson."

She smiled as they continued walking and passed an elderly couple.

There was something on her mind that just would not let her be. She had to know.

"Do you miss Stacy?"

She could see him tense.

"You said you'd always start missing her after a while and I saw the way you were around her when she was here that last time. Do you miss her?"

Just saying those words felt like a thousand needles piercing her heart. She could hardly breathe. If he still loved Stacy then there was nothing for her to do.

"There was a reason I sent her away," House answered heavily. "We could never work. Too much has passed between us."

"Do you still love her?"

Another bathed breath and another pause.

"I guess a part of me will always remember the good times, but . . . No. I don't think I do."

After she left he threw away her photo – the last remnant of her in his life. He did it out of bitterness at the time, yet without realising, it was also his way of getting closure. Stacy was a thing of the past.

"What about Cuddy?"

"What is this? Spanish inquisition?"

Cameron kept quiet, afraid she went too far.

"I'm in love with her . . ." A dramatic pause followed before he continued, "Zesty body. That's about it. Oh, and I slept with her in college."

"So the rumour's true."

"Certainly. And don't be afraid to confirm it. It will definitely add to my street cred. What about you?"

"What about me? I've never slept with Cuddy," she shot back with a smile.

"A shame. Any other guys . . . or gals on your mind lately? Besides me, of course."

She was about to continue with another joke but thought better of it. This was her chance of letting him know what he meant to her.

"The reason I'm here today is to move on with my life. I've been clinging to his memory for far too long. I'll never forget Mathew, just as you'll never forget Stacy. Some people just leave a permanent mark on one's life, they make you who you are and I think that's a good thing, but I still need to allow myself to move on and experience new things."

He nodded in agreement. "What about Joe?"

She frowned. "Wilson's got a big mouth."

"That he does."

"I think I should meet up with him. As a friend. After all, we've been to hell and back together."

"Charles, Chase?"

She absolutely loved that hint of jealousy in his voice.

"How many times do I have to tell you that Sebastian is just a friend . . . and Chase . . . What on earth makes you think that I could ever have feelings for him?"

"He's got great hair," House replied thoughtfully.

"Yeah and that's about the only thing that's great about him," she replied automatically before quickly adding, "Don't tell him I said that."

House smirked. "Oh you know how these things happen. Sometimes words just slip off your tongue even if you don't want them too."

She pulled on his sleeve, effectively stopping him.

"Greg . . . You know the way he'll get if he finds out. . . ."

His smirk got even bigger. "So basically, you're saying that you have eyes only for me."

Her heart started beating faster. This was the perfect opening – she could already taste those three little words on the tip of her tongue. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and suddenly, the world started spinning. She held on tighter to him. Her lips parted in preparation, but just as she was about to voice her feelings, something swished past her head and then a moment later, something large collided with her, making both of them fall down like dominoes.

She lifted her head to see a Great Dane gallop towards a frisbee.

"Do you mind?" House grunted from beneath her.

"Sorry," she muttered and managed to stand up, still a bit shaken up from the unexpected encounter.

Just as she succeeded in pulling House to his feet, she heard someone calling out, "George! George!"

A family of four was running towards them. The two children, a boy and a girl of about ten kept running after the dog, calling his name, while the parents stopped in front of House and Cameron.

"I'm so sorry," the woman spoke between heavy gasps of breath. "He's partially blind, but he still loves playing these outdoor games."

"Are you two ok?" the man asked.

"Other than the fact that I feel like I've been hit by a truck, I'm quite fine," House jibbed.

"Sorry again," the man said apologetically.

John and Marry Alcott proved to be an interesting couple, and the four of them immediately hit it off. While the two men struck a conversation on which brands of whisky and bourbon are the best, the two women took the opportunity to complain about their spouses. The children, meanwhile, happily played with the dog.

There was a sense of normalcy to all of this that Cameron immensely enjoyed and, as it soon became clear to her, longed for. A family. She wanted a family, Cameron realised with trepidation.

* * *

**A/N: **_No promises._

_(Oh, and as far as this story is concerned, there is no dead husband's sperm lying around.) _


	71. Dooby Dooby Doo

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I figured I better start posting faster or I'll never finish this story. Song: Frank Sinatra: Strangers in the Night._

* * *

**Chapter 71 - Dooby Dooby Doo**  
_(Month 6, Week 4)_

Cameron combed her hand through her hair to make sure it was perfect as she examined her make up in the mirror. Her hair fell down in soft waves, draping her shoulders; her make up strong enough to accentuate her features, while subtle enough not to overshadow her natural beauty. She let her hands fall to her sides before smoothing them over her burgundy red strapless dress, which hugged her curves like a second skin. Satisfied with her appearance, she exhaled loudly before exiting the bathroom.

As she did so, her eyes were met with an image of House fumbling miserably with a bowtie. She smiled at the sight, while her mind drifted back to their wedding day.

"_You're pretty good at this," commented House._

_She paused for a moment and looked up at him. "My dad taught me when I was little. And whenever my brother had to attend a formal event he'd ask me to tie it for him. He said it brought him luck."_

_She smiled at the fond memories and continued with her task. _

_She expertly made a perfect knot in the first try. Then she gave the tie a tug here and there to align it properly and finally readjusted his collar. _

_The job completed, she patted him on the shoulders and looked up._

"_All done," she informed him. _

_Their eyes met, her palms still resting on his shoulders._

She sighed loudly which made him look up. Another flashback.

_His lips remained parted as his eyes travelled over her petite form, from head to toe and back up to meet her eyes. He closed his mouth and gulped inconspicuously. _

_His reaction took her completely by surprise, and she couldn't stop the light blush that tainted her cheeks as she felt his eyes on her. _

He immediately stopped trying to tame the restless piece of cloth as his gaze thoroughly examined every little piece of the red fabric and her skin. Even after all the time they have spent together, she still couldn't help but blush, when he looked at her that way – as if she were the most incredible thing he had ever seen. Giving him a shy smile, she approached him and took the bowtie from his hands. She could still feel the intensity of his gaze as she tried to steady her hands enough to tie it for him.

"You look beautiful," he whispered as she finished.

Her smile illuminated her entire face as she replied, "Thank you."

Tugging on his lapels, she added, "And you . . . look very handsome."

He was wearing a tuxedo which made him look elegant and very, very sexy. She closed her eyes to stop herself from ripping his clothes off. There will be plenty of time for that later, she tried to reassure herself. Suddenly, his hot breath fanned her face, and she stopped him a mere moment before his lips could meet hers.

"My make up. . . ." she whispered, trailing off.

House groaned and rested his forehead against hers.

"Why don't we just stay home?"

As much as she shared his sentiments, she simply couldn't allow herself to give in.

"Because we said we'd be there."

"Who cares?" he sighed in frustration.

"Cuddy, for one."

Cameron reluctantly removed herself from him and said, "Come on. The sooner we get this over, the sooner we'll be able to get back here."

'_Damn Allison and her sense of obligation'_, House thought as he followed her out of his apartment. At that moment, he couldn't care less how many extra hours of clinic duty Cuddy would dump on him if only he got to stay home with Allison and have a private little party with her. But then . . .

'_You can't always get what you want'_, The Stones taunted him in his mind as he shut the car door with more force than was absolutely necessary.

_**# # #**_

The benefit was already well on its way as they arrived. The hospital staff and the potential donors were politely conversing over champagne, martinis and carefully chosen snacks. Just looking at all the brown nosers made him feel sick to his stomach. Whatever happened to human dignity?

He placed his hand on the small of Allison's back and tried to lead her towards the bar, but she had other ideas. She steered them towards a small group animatedly discussing the current health-care plan. Two of them, he recognised: they worked in the OB/GYN department; the other two, he assumed, were rich potential donors. Loaded, in fact, judging by the bulky diamond necklace, which seemed heavy enough to sink a small boat. And if the woman didn't have the constitution of a medium-sized boat, House mused, she would definitely be sinking by now. A smirk crossed his lips at the image.

An hour of pure hell later, they were sat behind a table, waiting for dinner to be served while soft jazz played in the background. Sharing their table were all the usual suspects: Wilson, Cuddy, Foreman and Chase. House didn't fail to notice how everyone's eyes lingered on Allison – the boys', in appreciation, and Cuddy's, in envy. He instinctively moved his chair a little closer and rested his hand on her knee. She smiled at him while covering his hand with hers. If only everyone around them could just disappear.

Once the dinner was over, couples began filling the dance floor. House smirked as Chase nervously asked Cuddy for a dance and lifted his eyebrows as the young doctor's hand came to rest rather low on the administrator's back.

"I think you missed your chance," he informed Wilson.

Wilson's eyes widened in shock. "You don't think there's something going on between them, do you?" he asked House in disbelief.

House appeared deep in thought. "Screwing people and getting screwed is a part of her job. Seems she's really not that picky."

Wilson frowned. "That's low."

Chase's hand slid imperceptibly lower.

"It sure is," House agreed.

Wilson and House continued their discussion, with Cameron occasionally voicing her opinion before glancing back at the dance floor. _'She wants to dance'_, House realised with a sigh. He managed to ignore her longing looks for a whole of 10 minutes before finally looking at her in defeat.

"You want me to go up there and make a fool of myself, don't you?"

She immediately snapped her eyes to his. "No, I. . ."

He lifted his eyebrows.

"Ok, I would like to dance with you, but if you don't want to. . . ."

_Hmpf, pretending she was giving him a choice. . . ._

House stood up heavily and offered her his hand. He was just able to catch Wilson's amused look as he led her to the dance floor to the first notes of "Strangers in the Night".

_Strangers in the night exchanging glances  
Wondering in the night  
What were the chances we'd be sharing love  
Before the night was through._

Placing his right hand on her back, feeling the thin, silky material of her dress against his fingertips, and clasping her right with his left, feeling the soft, warm skin, they began to sway.

_Something in your eyes was so inviting  
Something in your smile was so exciting,  
Something in my heart told me I must have you._

There was such a soft glow in her eyes and a general softness to her features, making her look beyond stunning. She gave him the most radiant smile and he felt his heart begin to beat out of his chest. What was wrong with him?

_Strangers in the night, two lonely people  
We were strangers in the night  
Up to the moment when we said our first hello.  
_

She moved closer to him, resting her forehead against his chest. He welcomed the touch, now holding their joined hands against his drumming heart.

_Little did we know  
Love was just a glance away,  
A warm embracing dance away and -  
_

He lowered his head in the crook of her neck, and immediately, his senses were overwhelmed by her warmth and her intoxicating perfume. He heard her gentle sigh as his breath brushed against her neck and knew then that he needed to get them out of there.

_Ever since that night we've been together.  
Lovers at first sight, in love forever.  
It turned out so right for strangers in the night._

He grabbed her hand and nearly dragged her with him, barely grabbing his cane before they left the hall to the final: _dooby dooby doo_.

* * *

**A/N: **_Have you ever considered how perfect Cuddy and Chase would be together? No, really – he'd use her to get ahead in his job, and she'd make him her baby daddy (he does have great hair). A match made in heaven._

_Next chapter: part two of the evening._ **  
**


	72. Little Did She Know

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _It's been a while since I thanked you guys for all the support, so here it goes . . . Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, including anonymous reviewers and those who have their pm's disabled (I would have responded to you personally if I could). I'm especially glad that you've been so patient given my recent lack of updating. I do feel awfully bad about it._

_We are now approaching the home stretch, and I hope you can hold on just a bit longer. _

_That said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. _

* * *

**Chapter 72 – Little Did She Know_  
_**_(Month 6, Week 4)_

The door closed with a loud _bang_ as he pushed her against it, immediately capturing her lips with his. His solid body was pressed tightly against her, and she could feel his body heat as if it were her own. His lips were demanding, determined; she gladly acquiesced. And then they were on her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as his scruff scratched against the sensitive skin. She clung on for dear life, her legs barely able to keep her upright against the tumultuous torrent of passion. Just as she thought she might faint due to his fervid ministrations, he stopped. Resting his forehead against hers, he tried to control his ragged breathing while still leaning heavily against her.

As if he was starved for her touch. As if they hadn't seen each other in weeks. As if . . .

_He pushed open the door to his apartment, and as soon as she followed him inside, he pressed her against it, slamming it shut in the process. His lips were on hers before she could process what was going on. The bag slid off her shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud, joining his discarded cane. He pressed harder against her, his lips now trailing down her neck._

"_Wait," she breathed out as soon as he released her lips, but he paid her no mind._

_Instead, he grabbed hold of one of her legs, and hooked it around his hip. Their eyes met for a brief moment, before his lips once again found hers. What she could see was intense focus drowned in desire. This was what caught her off guard more than anything. _

A gentle kiss tugged her out of her reverie. Not even a kiss; merely a brush of his lips against hers. The burning desire in his eyes was replaced by something different, something . . .

"I thought it would never end," he murmured forlornly as if he had just endured some great torture.

She soothed him with a kiss of her own. Her heart stuttered before picking up in speed. She vaguely registered her confusion at her body's response – on some level, it felt as if it were their first kiss.

_She lightly rested her palms on his chest, very distinctly aware of his warmth seeping through her thin dress where his hands made contact with the delicate material. _

_Their lips made contact and she immediately forgot about the world around her. It was delicate and very enjoyable. Just as she was starting to relax a little, her hands sliding a bit higher to make contact with the skin on his neck, a sudden flash of light startled both of them._

He pulled away slowly and took a step back. She observed his hand as it traced her arm before sliding into her palm; their fingers laced. One tug and she followed him down the hallway, but not before meeting his eyes. Try as she might, she could not interpret what she saw there. All she knew was that it made her feel nervous and more than a little thrilled.

"_So . . ." he began, fishing for any answer that would indicate future course of action. _

"_So . . ." she replied with a small smile and barely a hint of nervousness. _

"_What you said about the hookers . . . Were you serious?" he asked cautiously, trying to measure her reaction. He looked almost like a little boy expecting to be reprimanded for his question. Cute. _

_She simply smiled and answered, "Of course."_

_When he showed no indication of continuing the conversation, she gave him another smile and said "Let's go," while confidently making her way to his bedroom. _

He let her enter the bedroom first before following close behind. As she stopped in front of the bed and was about to face him, he encircled her in his arms, pressing her back against his chest. Brushing her brown tresses to one side, he began placing soft, warm kisses against her left shoulder and the side of her neck. Covering his arms with hers, she relaxed into his embrace, sighing in content.

This was nothing like their first night together; no second thoughts, no hesitancy, no asking for permission. . . .

_As they parted once more, she let one of her hands slide towards the top buttons of his shirt and started unbuttoning them, one by one. _

_She felt his hot breath on her lips when he spoke, "Are you sure you want this?"_

_He pulled back a little to look at her face. _

There was no need for that. They both wanted this.

His arms slid from underneath hers. One of his hands settled on her waist while the other slowly and carefully undid the zipper. He placed a kiss on the nape of her neck before sliding the dress off her petite form in a gentle caress. It pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of it before turning around to meet his eyes.

She touched his cheek, running her fingers across the stubble-covered skin and along the edge of his jaw before lightly tracing his lips. He leaned into her palm as it finally came to rest against his cheek.

That glimmer in his eyes. . . . It was more than mere lust. She was more than just a piece of meat to him. Much more. She could tell by they way he gazed at her lately when her clothes were discarded. Appreciation, astonishment; as if he. . .

"You're so beautiful," he whispered before gingerly placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer.

Her stomach clenched, and she was more than glad that their lips were once again locked together or he would have seen the tears threatening to escape her eyes. How could she have ever believed that she could be with this man without falling for him. . . ?

"_He told you," she stated. _

_Wilson nodded and she sighed. "If you want to give me another of your 'don't break his heart' speeches, save it. This is nothing personal, it's just a… bet."_

"_It's something I would expect from him, but what on earth possessed you to take this bet?" Wilson asked her gravely. _

_She smiled. "Actually, I was the one to suggest it."_

"_I know and it doesn't make any sense, unless…"_

"_Unless what?" she challenged him, determination in her eyes. _

"_Unless this is your last-ditch effort to start something with him." _

_The traces of pity in his voice made her angry. "I'm over him."_

"_So you keep saying."_

Who was she trying to fool? She never was over him.

He shrugged off his jacket as her trembling fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, her lips never leaving his.

_Wilson paused before asking what really interested him, "So, you're ok now?"_

"_Define ok," she answered wryly. _

_She flipped a pancake and then inquired, "How much did he tell you?"_

"_He said that you're visiting a counsellor. I still can't believe you convinced him to do that. . . And I think it's a good thing," he added quickly, "He could use some counselling . . . of any kind."_

_Cameron smiled and turned around. She could just barely see Greg from where she was standing. _

"_Are you in love with him?" Wilson asked her gravely. _

_She snapped back to him and answered quickly, "What? No . . . I just . . ."_

_She found Greg with her eyes again. "I like him," she finally admitted and turned to Wilson to gauge his reaction. _

Like. This was so much more than like now.

He carefully lowered her to the bed, and she immediately pulled him closer, longing for that skin on skin contact. The weight of his body on hers was exquisite. She felt as if she were completely enveloped by him – his arms, his warmth, his being.

She followed the curve of his spine and then sighed in frustration as she reached the silky material of his dress pants. She needed more of him – the need almost overwhelming. How could he make her feel this way?

_He was lying on his side, facing her, and by the looks of it, he was still sleeping deeply. The morning light permeated the room with its soft glow. She could feel it gently warming her skin and caressing Greg's face. He looked so peaceful; his face relaxed, lips slightly parted, his left arm hidden beneath the pillow. She felt the urge to touch him and has already moved her hand, when she faltered. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up and catch her red-handed_.

Finally, both of them were naked. He rolled them onto their sides before recapturing her lips and taking advantage of the new position to explore her body. Flowing, feather-light touches that made her skin tingle. His hand caressed her thigh before he hooked his fingers under her knee and pulled her leg across his hip. She relished the more intimate contact.

Eventually, his lips left hers and he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. His hand brushed a stray curl off of her cheek before it came to rest on her thigh. And then he slowly entered her; inch by tantalizing inch. Their eyes were locked, their faces so close they were breathing each other's air. She has never felt this connected to anyone in her entire life.

As soon as he was fully sheathed in her, he allowed a soft moan to escape his lips while he tipped his head forward – forehead to forehead, eyes closed. She was relieved to have a moment to try to restrain her unbridled emotions that were rampaging through her body like wildfire. Never had she felt like this. So out of control.

And when he started moving inside her, it was almost too much for her to bear. She desperately clung to him as his lips met hers, mimicking the undulation of their hips. Tears pooled in her eyes once again.

"_About tomorrow . . ." he started once he got settled. _

_She immediately turned around to face him._

"_Yes?" she prompted him. _

"_We'll keep the bet to ourselves, right?" he inquired._

_She nodded. "It's better that way. I don't want everyone telling me that I'm crazy just yet."_

** #**

_Foreman and Chase looked at each other, about to question Greg's orders, when he walked straight to her and kissed her. _

_She could hear a gasp of surprise from their audience and decided that she'll have to talk to Greg about his 'news delivering' methods. Later, though. At the moment she rather enjoyed being trapped between the table and his body. She slid her hands around his neck, allowing his tongue entrance. There was a vague sound of scurrying in the distance. _

**#**

_She laughed and instinctively moved closer to him when he placed his arm around her shoulders. Realising what happened, she froze, though only for a moment. It felt rather cosy, so she snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his thigh. He didn't seem to mind or perhaps it was just a farce intended to rouse Wilson, either way, she didn't care. _

**#**

_Sighing heavily, he extended his arm and urged her, "Come on then."_

_She immediately snuggled up and he hugged her closer to him. _

_Sensing her smile, he felt the need to clarify his actions. "This is a one time thing, so don't get too used to it. I just want to get some sleep." _

"_Sure," she murmured and held him just that much tighter. _

**#**

_She took one of his hands that were resting on his stomach and placed it across hers. Holding it in place with her left hand, she used the right one to run it gently over the inside of his forearm, just barely touching his skin._

_Her fingers travelled from his wrist to just above the inside of his elbow several times until they reached his palm. She gently massaged it with circular motions using her thumb until she reached his knuckles, when she switched back to using just the tips of her fingers to explore his palm._

_He hummed contently and she turned her head to look at him, opening her eyes. His were closed and he had a peaceful expression on his face. She could tell by his slow and shallow breaths that he was completely relaxed and probably already drifting off. _

**#**

"_Unlike our sun, most stars are in binary systems," he said, "two stars circling around each other." _

"_I like that," she commented. _

"_But . . ." he interrupted her momentary consolation, "Some of these stars keep circling closer and closer around each other, caught in a death spiral, until at the end they collide." _

_She turned her head around, trying to meet his eyes; trying to find some reason behind him telling her all that, a reason why universe worked the way it did. Failing that, she returned her eyes to the night sky where the stars were still happily twinkling and she found it hard to believe that this could ever change. _

**#**

He rolled her onto her back and she moaned, almost too sensitive for the sudden movement. She felt his pace begin to quicken. Her fingers dug into his muscular shoulders as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She was losing control and she knew it.

**#**

"_What are you thinking about?" she asked quietly. _

_She raised her head when he didn't answer. _

_Finally tearing his eyes from the ceiling, House murmured, "Nothing."_

_Feeling his erection against her thigh, she smiled seductively. "This doesn't feel like nothing."_

**#**

_They tumbled on the bed, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. She hated to admit it, but she really missed this. The weight of his body pressing down on hers, the feel of his scruff against her soft skin, his tongue sliding against hers . . . ._

**#**

_Breaking the kiss, she pushed him onto the bed and straddled his hips._

"_Wow, you're zealous today," he commented as she began trailing kisses up his neck. _

"_Do you want me to stop?" _

"_Oh no," he quickly added, "Keep going."_

**#**

_Her hand slipped beneath his T-shirt, smoothing over the hot skin on his stomach, while her lips continued their assault on his neck. He craned his neck to give her better access and then rested his hands on her hips. Her tongue traced his jugular, leaving a moist trail behind, while her nails raked across his abdomen, and he released a long breath._

**#**

_He leaned down and captured her lips, pressing her body tightly against his. There was something utterly erotic about the hot water beating down on her skin, making her tingle all over, and the feel of his damp, slippery body against hers. _

**#**

_Their tongues waged a war while she deftly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. Yanking him into an upright position, she stripped it off him and tossed it across the room, quickly followed by his T-shirt. Pushing him back into a lying position, she attacked his neck while clawing down his chest. _

**#**

_Her arms clung to him as he trailed his hands down the silky material of her night wear, soon his lips followed. The material was so thin that it almost felt as if his mouth made direct contact with her skin. Their lips met once again as his hand slipped under the fabric. In response, her hands moved higher on his back, trying to pull him closer. _

**#**

_She felt his pulse quicken, as her lips began sucking on the still moist skin. Soon her teeth joined in. There was something thrilling about her biting lightly on the vein, feeling his blood pulse against the walls in strong bursts. Grazing the path with the hard edges of her teeth, she added more pressure, and his breath caught._

**#**

_He quickly rid her of the panties, barely taking a moment to put on a condom before pushing inside her. They both moaned at the sensation, their bodies already aroused to the limit. _

**#**

She was getting close. Her grip on him tightened and she felt him quicken his pace another notch. Yet still, his thrusts were sensual, not frantic. They were still . . . making love. She broke the kiss, gasping for the much needed air and looked up at him. He gazed down at her with soft intensity.

**#**

_He pushed her against the wall, the cold tiles making her shiver, but she didn't mind. A sigh escaped her lips as he entered her, and she wound her arms around his waist to help him balance._

**#**

_Her hand was entangled in his hair and there was something utterly erotic, observing him between her parted thighs, his jeans still on. _

**#**

_They were both breathing deeply, gazing into each other's passion-filled eyes. Occasionally, their lips would meet in a desperate kiss. They rapidly began approaching their climaxes when she began meeting each of his thrusts._

**#**

_He braced himself against the wall for support, and caught her eye, when he started moving inside her. Slowly, so as not to slip, and with a purpose. Catching his lips in another kiss, she closed her eyes and focused solely on the myriad of sensations running through her body. _

**#**

_It was increasingly more difficult for them to keep their eyes open because of the intense waves of pleasure. A few thrusts later, she pulled him closer using all of her strength and moaned his name as she came. Her orgasm set of his and he groaned loudly as pleasure shook his body. _

**#**

_The shower doors got blurry due to the warm steam that hung in the air. _

_It was all too much for her, two more thrusts and she fell over the edge, taking him with her._

**#**

_Giving in to her, he placed his hands on her hips and let her take him over the edge with a few measured violent thrusts. She kept moving as his body trembled beneath her, until he went limp, gasping for breath. _

**#**

And then she slipped into blissful oblivion, holding his body to hers in a vice-like grip as wave upon wave upon wave of pleasure ripped through her body. She moaned and gasped and shuddered, words of encouragement and pleasure and . . . his name falling from her lips in broken syllables.

She was torn from her trance-like state when she felt his body tense as his own release hit him. Lost in her own world, all she could do was run her hands soothingly across his back and through his hair as he shuddered against her until he was completely spent.

She welcomed his weight as he collapsed against her, both of them still trying to regain some semblance of control over their breathing and wild heart beats.

As soon as his shuddering breaths were replaced by soft gasps, he moved off her to grab the covers. Instantly, his absence hit her like a tonne of bricks.

_The words poured out on their own, offering a welcome relief to all of her bottled-up emotions. _

"_Worry, why do I let myself worry? Wond'ring what in the world did I do?"_

_And he sensed it – his hands that had previously been trailing the curve of her spine had now stopped, as if in anticipation of what was to come. _

"_Crazy for thinking that my love could hold you."_

_His breathing was calm, controlled, composed; almost mechanic. It was his heart that betrayed him; beating strong against her eardrum. _

"_I'm crazy for trying and crazy for crying and I'm crazy for loving you."_

**#**

The moment he returned to her, she snuggled close to him, and he responded by wrapping his arms around her. Pure ecstasy – the feel of his hot skin, the rise and fall of his chest and the staccato of his heart. . . . Her own heart instinctively responded to the powerful rhythm.

**#**

_Placing the bread on the counter, Cameron turned around with a sigh._

"_He's not Mathew, mom."_

_Joy took a step forward and lightly placed her hand upon Allison's. Her eyes shone with love and concern. _

"_You can't blame me. . . . The way you hid this marriage from us. . . ."_

_Tears started welling up in Cameron's eyes as guilt clenched her throat. _

"_I love Greg," she admitted. "There's no one I'd rather spend my life with."_

**#**

Once again, tears clouded her eyes, and she squeezed them shut to prevent them from falling, but to no avail. They trickled down her eyelids, tickling her cheek before landing on his skin.

**#**

_His smirk got even bigger. "So basically, you're saying that you have eyes only for me."_

_Her heart started beating faster. This was the perfect opening – she could already taste those three little words on the tip of her tongue. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, and suddenly, the world started spinning. She held on tighter to him. Her lips parted in preparation . . . _

**#**

"I love you. I love you, Greg. . . ." she finally admitted in a strangled whisper.

His arms pulled her closer, and at that moment, she felt on the top of the world. Little did she know that, before long, everything was about to change.


	73. Nothing Gold Can Stay

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I would've updated earlier, but I had a bit of a homework emergency. I suppose I should feel bad for always waiting until the last possible moment, but . . . ever heard of this nifty thing: "Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion." It's called Parkinson's Law, and it's awesome. Can't fight the nature. _

* * *

**Chapter 73 – Nothing Gold Can Stay_  
_**_(Month 6, Week 4)_

_Nature's first green is gold  
Her hardest hue to hold.  
Her early leaf's a flower;  
But only so an hour.  
Then leaf subsides to leaf.  
So Eden sank to grief,  
So dawn goes down to day.  
Nothing gold can stay._

_~ Robert Frost: "Nothing Gold Can Stay" ~_

The insistent patter of autumn rain echoed in the quiet of the apartment. Cameron slowly made her way to the window and tugged on the curtains to take a look at the rain-drenched street. It was dark outside, the evening having cast its shadows several hours ago – the only glimmer of light in the darkness was the feeble illumination of the streetlamps. The puddles that gathered in the street's imperfections shimmered, blinking in and out of existence. Cameron sighed and turned around to look at her husband.

He was sitting on the couch, reading a medical journal. Cameron bit her lip as she looked at him wistfully. He'd been distant the entire day, ever since . . . Ever since she said those fateful words to him the previous evening. And just when she thought he'd accepted them without a great fuss. He hadn't kicked her out of the bed or pushed her away or yelled at her or. . . . All he had done was pull her closer. Her lips curled into a wry smile. Men – who could ever understand them? Especially this particular specimen. She shook her head and made her way towards the couch.

But perhaps . . . Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions. Perhaps she was thinking too much into this – she did that often enough. Perhaps he really wasn't shutting her out. Not for _that_ reason, at least. She carefully sat down next to him, her eyes still trained to him. He did nothing to acknowledge her presence.

She bit her lip once more before deciding she had nothing to lose.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he muttered without raising his eyes from the article.

'_Must be some article'_, she thought bitterly.

"Greg, I know you. You can't lie to me."

That seemed to have gotten her his attention. He lowered the journal and then stared at her for several long moments with an unreadable expression on his face before finally speaking.

"Have you applied for a divorce yet?"

She blinked at him, wondering if she heard him correctly. "What?" she stuttered.

"Legal stuff takes time," he remarked offhandedly as if they were discussing weather or grocery shopping.

"You . . ." Cameron began, but was unable to form an actual sentence.

Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to create some distance between the two of them. She jumped off the couch and took several steps back, disbelief written plainly on her face.

"I know you're . . .you, but I thought. . . . Is this because of . . ."

"This is because we only have a month left and I'd rather not wait till the last possible moment only to find out I'll be stuck with you for another half a year," he said with no emotion, his face a stoic mask.

She shouldn't have been surprised. She shouldn't. She knew him long enough. She'd seen what he was capable of, but after everything they'd been together, she felt there was more to him. She felt they stood a chance. How naïve of her.

She turned away from him, her eyes coming to rest on the curtain hanging limply in front of the window. She could still hear the rain now beating even stronger against the ground. For a single moment, she let it wash over her. And the next, she took a deep breath and faced him once again with a new determination.

"I love you," she proclaimed firmly and then quickly continued before he could get a word in, "I love you. And as much as it makes you uncomfortable and as much as you don't want it to be true it _is_ the truth. There's nothing either of us can do to change that."

He shook his head. "You don't . . ."

She knew that tone. She would not let him patronise her or belittle her feelings.

"I don't what? I don't know what love feels like? I don't know what it feels like to fall asleep next to someone and be comforted by the fact that you'll wake up next to him the next morning? I don't know what it feels like to look at someone and feel your heart start beating faster? I don't know what it feels like to want to spend hours just talking . . . or just looking at you? To feel joy when you smile, or to be heart-broken when you're hurting? I don't know what . . . "

Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears. "It's just pity, you think? Just me feeling sorry for you?" she asked him sadly.

He kept quiet this time, his head lowered.

"You think I wanted this to happen?"

He huffed at that and glanced at her with his eyes ablaze. "Who's the one lying now? Let's not pretend you didn't know _exactly_ what would happen. After all, it _was_ your little scheme. Well, tough luck, sweetheart, but then . . . Did you honestly think you could trick me into falling in love with you? A couple of months of you swooning over me, and I'd be sold? If that's the case, well, I guess you're even more naïve and pathetic than I gave you credit for."

"How dare you! I never . . . I never meant to trick you into anything. If anything, then I just wanted a . . ." She grasped for the right word as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"I just wanted a chance. You've been shutting me out for so long that I just wanted something. . . . Perhaps I _am_ naïve and pathetic. Perhaps I _was_ a fool for starting all this, but you can't look me in the eye and tell me you feel nothing. You can't," she said with conviction.

He didn't answer.

"You don't look at someone the way you look at me without feeling something for them. You don't touch someone the way you touch me without caring about them. And you don't make love to someone the way you made love to me yesterday without some pretty strong emotions as a motivation. You're a good actor, Greg, but no one's that good."

He still avoided her gaze, stubbornly examining the floor.

Cameron wiped away an errant tear.

"Whatever it is that's holding you back – your damn pride or your fears and insecurities. . . ._ Please_ don't throw this away. I don't care about the bet; I don't care about any of that. I just care about you. Please. . . ."

She was desperate and begging, and she knew it.

House sat still, motionless – like a statue.

One last try. "I don't want to lose you. . . ."

Nothing.

"Ok," she spoke slowly and nodded. "Ok."

She walked to the door, pausing as her hand touched the cold metal.

One last glance at him.

"I. . . ."

One last pause.

"I'll make sure the divorce will be over as soon as possible."

And with that, she left, closing the door behind her one last time.

House waited until he was sure she wasn't coming back, and then walked towards the window, forcefully yanking aside the curtains.

He could just see her small form run through the torrential downpour to get to her car. She didn't even put on her coat. And then she was out of sight. He waited for a while until he heard the distinct sound of a car engine and saw her drive past his window into the night.

After pulling the curtains closed almost violently, he limped towards his liquor cabinet, grabbed his finest bourbon and the first tumbler he could reach, before limping back towards the couch. He barely sat down before the glass was half full.

The bottle barely made contact with the table before the glass was empty again. He quickly refilled it, ignoring the burning sensation in his throat, while almost chocking on the vile liquid. His eyes watered as he tried to catch his breath, yet it still wasn't enough. Not even close to it.

He gripped the sturdy glass tighter, willing it to yield under the pressure. When it wouldn't give, he released a strangled yell and threw it against the nearest wall with all his strength. He felt a sliver of satisfaction as it broke into tiny pieces, leaving behind an unsightly stain on the pristine wall.

_Why the hell did he have to go and fall in love with her?_

* * *

**A/N: **_Alright, we'll finally start with the last month of the bet in the next chapter. No more stalling. _

_The good news is that holidays are just around the corner, so I should have more time to write now. _


	74. Crying Time

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _This one's for all of you who missed Cuddy-bashing, an interfering Wilson and the two male ducklings._

* * *

**Chapter 74 – Crying Time_  
_**_(Month 7, Week 1)_

The weekend rolled around to give way to a new week, which instead of a new start brought with itself a dark kind of finality. Everyone could notice a change in House – from his extraordinarily rumpled clothes to the dark circles under his eyes to his menacing scowl; a signpost revealing what would happen to anyone who dared to cross his path.

If there ever was a brave, or foolhardy, as many would say, woman who dared to face the diagnostician when he was in one of his blacker moods, it was Lisa Cuddy. With a confident strut that made the sound of her heels resound even in the hullabaloo of midday activity, she approached him.

"You're late," she accused him.

House stopped and glanced thoughtfully at her.

"Better me than you, eh? Although . . ." he said, his eyes drifting pointedly at her flat stomach, "I can't see how that could happen in the foreseeable future . . . or ever."

Without waiting for a reply, he limped towards the elevators and jammed the button repeatedly until the doors finally opened and he was able to disappear behind the steely curtain.

Cuddy was rooted to her spot, her mouth hanging open. She was well-used to his jibes, however, only rarely were they delivered in such a harsh tone. It was time to consult Wilson.

Meanwhile, House made it to his office. After disposing of his backpack and jacket, he quickly entered the conference room, intent on having his morning dose of caffeine.

_She wasn't there. _

The only doctors present were the two stooges. _Where was she?_

Quelling the sudden surge of panic, he carefully schooled his features while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

One sip and he knew she didn't make it.

"Where's Cameron?" Chase inquired, confirming his suspicions.

Keeping his face as impassive as ever, he turned around and answered with slightly more bite than necessary, "How am I supposed to know? I'm not her keeper."

"No, just her husband," snorted Foreman.

House glared at the pair before storming into his office without another word.

_**# # #**_

Joy Cameron opened her front door to find her daughter standing on the doorstep, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy.

"Allison, what's wrong?" she inquired softly.

Allison opened her mouth, trying to find the right words yet none came to mind.

"Oh, sweetheart . . ." Joy pulled her daughter into her arms, gently cradling Allison's head as sobs wracked the girl's body.

Finally calming her down enough, she led her to the couch and waited for Allison to speak.

"It's Greg. . . . We had a fight," Allison admitted dejectedly.

Joy took one of Allison's hands in hers as she spoke, "I'm sure you two can work it out."

Allison shook her head and sniffled.

"Mom," she hesitated, "there's something I haven't told you."

Joy waited patiently for her daughter to continue.

"I. . . . Oh god, how am I going to explain this . . . ?"

"You know you can tell me anything, Allison. I won't judge you."

A small smile found its way to Allison's lips. He mother was an extremely understanding person, but she had her limits – limits that were crossed when she married Mathew. Allison wasn't entirely sure whether this entire situation with Greg was better or worse, but she was sure that her mother won't take it well.

"It was a bet. The marriage isn't real," she admitted quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

Her mother instinctively withdrew her hands, causing Allison to chew on her bottom lip.

"We made a bet. We'd be married for 7 months, and if we were happy during that time, I'd win, otherwise, Greg would."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"We had a case and . . . It doesn't really matter, but Greg said he doesn't believe in a happy marriage, and I though I'd prove him wrong."

Her mother frowned. "But you love him?"

Allison took a deep breath. "Yes."

The frown deepened, calling for an explanation.

"I've always liked Greg and I . . . I swear I wasn't trying to manipulate him or anything, I just . . ." She sighed in frustration.

"I've never felt this way for anyone before, and I know he felt something for me too, but he was so hell-bent on denying it so . . ." Another sigh.

"I don't know what I was thinking. . . . I guess it doesn't matter now anymore since it's over." She buried her head in her hands, waiting for the reprimand she knew was to follow.

"He loves you."

Allison's head immediately shot back up in surprise. She searched her mother's eyes, and all she found was certainty.

"There's days when I'm sure he does, and then there's others. . . ."

"What happened? What did you fight over?"

"I told him I loved him, and he pushed for the divorce. Since it's only a month left."

Her mother gave her a sympathetic smile and muttered, "Men. . . ."

Allison gave a small laugh in return while wiping away her tears.

"Have I ever told you how I met your father?"

Allison shook her head no.

"While I was in college, I worked in this small diner that your father and his friends frequented. None of them were really rich, but they had enough money to be spoiled brats. They were always joking and making comments about me and the other girls who worked there. After a while, your father started coming to the diner more often, even when his friends weren't with him. And I noticed him looking at me – well, staring would be a better word."

Allison smiled despite herself.

"He never did anything, though; barely spoke two words to me. So, one day, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I asked him out, and he responded by saying why on earth would he want to go out with someone like me."

Allison grimaced while her mother remained unfazed.

"I hadn't seen him for several weeks following that incident. But when he did show up again, he was holding a bouquet of red roses. He apologised for his behaviour, told me that my beauty made him nervous and asked me to go with him to a local festival. I accepted, and the rest is history."

Before Allison could comment, there was a sound of the front door opening.

"Speaking of the devil. . . ." Joy muttered as her husband walked into the living room.

He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the two of them huddled on the couch.

"Allison, what are you doing here? Everything alright?" he asked, his brow creasing in worry.

"Just a minor altercation with Greg," Joy answered for her daughter.

"Do you want me to have a . . . chat with him?"

Seeing the dangerous flicker in her father's eyes, Allison quickly answered, "No, please don't. Everything is alright."

"Are you sure, pumpkin?" he inquired once more, entirely unconvinced.

Allison smiled. "I'm sure."

"I'll tell you everything later," Joy added just to be sure.

Her husband shrugged and walked out of the room while the two women looked at each other and smiled.

Perhaps everything was not lost just yet.

_**# # #**_

Wilson hesitated briefly at the sight of the darkness-encased office. As clear a keep out sign as any. '_What's the worst that could happen, right?_' he asked himself nervously and then entered.

Light poured in from the hallway, revealing his best friend who was sat behind his desk. House didn't even bother looking up.

"I hear Allison has gone MIA," he tried to lighten the atmosphere.

House merely clenched his jaw in response.

_Alright, this might have been a bad idea. Best let sleeping dogs lie._

"She went to visit her parents," he informed House, who finally met his gaze then.

"She took a few personal days to think things over," he added before walking out.

He was not inclined to find out what 'the worst that could happen' truly was.

* * *

**A/N:** _Next chapter: Cameron returns to work after a week off. How will House handle it? How will she handle it? _

_The aim is by the end of the week. A tad optimistic perhaps. _


	75. Odi et amo

**Disclaimer:** _Nope. _

**A/N: **_In my country we have a saying which roughly translates as: When the devil has babies, he has many. Plain and simple, my life (personal and university) has been a mess these past few months, and despite my best intentions, I could not find enough time, energy and concentration to finish this chapter any sooner. However, I gave you my word that I will finish this story and finish it I will. I just hope this chapter is up to my and your standards, even though not much happens in terms of plot. _

_You can find the English translation of the poem at the bottom of the page. _

* * *

**Chapter 75 – Odi et amo_  
_**_(Month 7, Week 1)_

_Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris.  
Nescio, sed fieri sentio, et excrucior._

_~Catullus 85 ~_

House grabbed the red folder, his fingertips digging into the thick paper. Giving the door one last wary look, he wondered how it came to this – him actually volunteering for clinic duty – all just to distract himself from thoughts of her.

This was decidedly not one of his more brilliant ideas, but he might as well check what was hiding behind door number one since he was already there. And with that thought in mind, he pushed open the door while plastering a friendly smile on his face.

"How can I be of assistance?" he inquired of the largely built woman in her 40's who was occupying the room.

"Doctor, I think I have anorexia," answered the woman in a high-pitched wail.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Lately, I've barely been able to eat anything. The mere thought of food makes me nauseous."

"I see," nodded House while eyeing the chocolate stains on her blouse, "If you'll excuse me for a minute."

He swiftly closed the door behind him and walked towards the nurses' counter.

"Psych consult needed in exam room one," he informed Brenda before trying his luck behind door number two.

He was greeted by a large guy wearing grey sweatpants and a red hoodie.

Flipping open the folder, he spoke, "Your ankle hurts."

The guy nodded.

"Can you describe the pain?"

The guy kept looking at him with a vacant expression on his face, and House very nearly groaned from frustration. While taking a deep breath, he tried to convince himself that this was exactly what he wanted – a proper distraction.

"What does the pain feel like?" he tried once again, enunciating every word with a languid precision.

Another blank look until, "It hurts."

House nodded his agreement, "Yes, pain usually does that."

A thorough examination, which revealed no abnormalities, and half an hour of questions later, House finally discovered that it was a needling pain located in his heel area rather than the ankle, which eventually led him to the diagnosis of Achilles tendonitis.

Six cases of sniffles, which really and truly were not cases of some obscure incurable disease, later – cold season be damned – he was half-thorn between congratulating himself for the mind-numbingly mundane plan and castigating himself for the utterly tedious idea. He was so far gone that even the thought of flue made his heart quiver with excitement. Unfortunately, due to his state of desperation, he completely forgot about the age-old warning: Be careful what you wish for, it just might come true. And it did.

Opening the exam room door, he was met by a dorky teenager in far too large and far too old-fashioned clothes with a rather unfashionable pair of glasses and the most fiery mop of red hair he has ever seen.

"Doctor, I think there's something seriously wrong with me," the teen exclaimed, fear written all over his face.

House bit his tongue to prevent a scathing retort from slipping out. "Your symptoms are?"

The teen took a deep breath before he started listing his complains, "Lately, I've been having these attacks when I suffer from heart palpitations, tremors, excessive perspiration, especially of my palms, abdominal distress and shallow breathing. I also have ADD-like symptoms and insomnia. I did some research, and I think I have hyperthyroidism or maybe panic attacks. . . . Or both."

House, who was checking the patient's file during his tirade, closed the folder with a soft _plop_ and said under his breath, "Of course you do."

Meeting the boy's gaze, he spoke in a louder tone, "Well, those are distinct possibilities."

"They are?" the red-head asked, his eyes wide.

House nodded and moved closer to examine the patient's thyroid gland. Nothing out of the ordinary – just as he suspected.

"So what keeps you awake at night?"

"I just can't sleep."

"And when that happens you're usually thinking about . . ."

The boy shook his head, red specks appearing on his cheeks. "Doesn't matter," he muttered.

"I'm the doctor, and I say what matters."

The teen's cheeks now glowed even brighter than his hair. "There's this girl. . . .," he mumbled quietly.

House narrowed his eyes.

"When you have those attacks, does she happen to be nearby?"

"Yes."

House narrowed his eyes further. "You're joking, right?"

The boy's eyebrows shot up. "Am I going to die?" he pleaded desperately.

House shook his head to clear his thoughts. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Wilson put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Who?"

"Short brown hair, white lab coat, ugly tie, nauseating smile," he answered, waving his hand impatiently.

"I don't know who that is. Please, doctor, is it serious?"

Either the boy deserved an Academy Award or . . .

"Very," House replied gravely, "it can even prove fatal."

And he walked out of the room, desperately needing some fresh air.

**_# # #_**

The day finally over, House wanted nothing more than to get home and drink himself into unconsciousness.

"Hey, Love Doctor."

House paused mid-step. Wilson. A very smug Wilson, judging by the sound of his voice.

"How did you find out?"

"Nurses talk," replied Wilson with a smile that would put the Cheshire cat to shame.

"Ah of course, we all know how close you are to them."

Wilson didn't let himself be bothered.

"So, what did you prescribe him? A little tenderness?"

House glared at him.

"A candlelight dinner? A stroll on the beach? A little bit of lovin'?"

House felt anger boil inside him, the pressure building with each taunt.

"You know, you might want to follow some of that advice yourself. The way you've been moping around because of Allison. . . ."

Wilson shook his head. House clenched his fists.

"I'm sure she'll forgive you if you open up to her just a little bit. Or if you want, I can talk . . ."

Before either of them had the time to realise what was happening, Wilson was pinned to the wall with House's cane pressing into his chest.

"Leave. My. Life. The. Hell. Alone," House growled through gritted teeth.

"Clean up your own mess before you start offering advice to people who neither want them nor need them."

His eyes flashing dangerously one last time, House lowered his cane and stormed down the hallway to keep his date with a bottle of the finest bourbon.

* * *

**A/N:** _Translation:  
I hate and love. Why I do so, perhaps you ask?  
I know not, but I feel it, and I am in torment._

_Next chapter: Cameron really will be back in the next one. And it will be set to a poem of an English Romantic poet so you can probably guess at its tone. Now, as to when it will be written. . . . The answer is when I can find the time. It sucks I know, but hey, this is life. _


	76. Still Dost Thou Pine?

**Disclaimer:** _Nope._

**A/N:** _I present to you a poemfic! If poetry is not your thing, you can skip the stanzas without losing anything as the story recaptures all the themes and the tone of the poem (or so I hope). I happen to be a fan of poetry and this is one of my favourites (well, a part of it since I didn't include the entire poem). It was written by __Percy Bysshe Shelley, one of the great Romantic poets._

_Mmm, I guess I should warn you that this chapter is a bit different than others, but it's one of my favourites so far and I've really enjoyed writing it. _

_I dedicate it to all those who kept nagging me to include more of House's thoughts and feelings. Here's the chapter you've been waiting for._ :)

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**Chapter 76 – Still Dost Thou Pine?_  
_**_(Month 7, Week 2)_

You sit behind your baby grand, running your fingers over an old photograph. Its smooth surface has not been roughened through the years, unlike a plethora of other things in your life – yourself included.

You've wondered – that day you came across Allison's photo albums – how a person can feel such an incessant need to document every little moment in their life.

The photo you hold in your hands is one of the few of your family. It is the only one you took with you when you moved out – for some sentimental reason or other. You are a slim boy of about 12, standing rigidly in front of your parents. Your dad, no . . . your father . . . is wearing his uniform; his hand is on your shoulder, holding it in a vice-like grip. Your mom is putting on a forced smile. Just another photo in the series, most of them simply a variation on the same theme. Not that there ever were all that many.

And as you ponder this, eyeing the empty glass with the brown residue attesting to its former contents, a morbid realisation washes over you. The worth of a life measured by the number of photos. Quality too, you suppose.

Allison has entire albums full of them, albums full of beaming people. Happy people. You have a series of militaristic photos. Not even a series anymore, just one.

Allison.

Your mind immediately jumps to your wedding photo. You're kipping it in your night stand drawer, though you haven't looked at it recently for fear of. . . . You don't want to think of these things – of the possibilities. Of you and her filling your own albums full of photos. The idea itself inconceivable to you.

Your thoughts drift back to the previous week and you clench the empty glass, tilting it slightly. You watch the remaining droplets as they gather in a small puddle.

**. . .**_  
And thou hast sought in starry eyes  
Beams that were never meant for thine,  
Another's wealth: tame sacrifice  
To a fond faith ! still dost thou pine?  
Still dost thou hope that greeting hands,  
Voice, looks, or lips, may answer thy demands?**  
. . .**  
_

You can smell her perfume if you stand just close enough. Something floral. Lilies, you think. You've missed that scent – the vivid, live aroma, not the stale fragrance that still lingers in your apartment and on her pillow.

Something akin to reverence urges you closer. You blatantly invade her personal space as you reach up to open a cabinet – for some strange reason you crave tea. Your free hand rests on the counter, effectively trapping her as you blindly grasp the first box that comes within your reach. Your eyes are on her. Her brown locks.

You more than half expect her to start yelling at you or something. She doesn't. All she does is wait, her hands holding on to a steaming coffee mug. Eventually, you step away. Now holding your tea bag, you are unsure how to proceed. You never were a tea person.

Surprisingly, she comes to your help. She opens a cabinet to her left and pulls out your red mug before filling it with hot water and sliding it towards you. Afraid to look at her, you drop the tea bag inside, observing the dark rivulets as they taint the crystal liquid. You find it oddly beautiful.

The truth is, you are unsure about . . . well, everything. You haven't said a word to her since she's returned from her sabbatical – her little getaway. Neither did she, for that matter, which only makes it worse. If she were angry, you'd understand. If she were screaming at you, you'd know how to respond. God knows you've dealt with more than enough hysterical women in your life. But no. Nothing.

She had just strolled in, the morning light reflecting off of her soft auburn hair and pristine white blouse. The moment you saw her, you thought that the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on you because she looked positively radiant, angelic even.

The entire week you've been oddly drawn to her like a . . . (you stop yourself before you make that schmaltzy, over-the-top comparison) . . . fat guy to a burger. Or Wilson to an ugly tie.

You want to touch her, but you're determined not to cave in. Still, that doesn't stop you from gazing into her eyes like a love-sick puppy. You try to convince yourself that you're only staring her down – glaring at her – but you both know better. She never breaks eye-contact first; you wonder why. _Is she just as desperate as you?_ Or perhaps . . .

You nearly chuckle as the ludicrous idea crosses your mind – perhaps it really is true that women's pain threshold is higher than men's.

**. . .**_  
Ah! wherefore didst thou build thine hope  
On the false earth's inconstancy?  
Did thine own mind afford no scope  
Of love, or moving thoughts to thee?  
That natural scenes or human smiles  
Could steal the power to wind thee in their wiles?**  
. . .**  
_

It was on Tuesday . . . or was it Wednesday . . . that you stumbled upon what could best be described as Chase's mating dance.

You walk into the hospital, making a beeline towards the elevators when a snippet of a conversation drifts towards you. You immediately recognise that nauseating Aussie drawl.

"Did you know that kangaroos have two vaginas?"

"Really?" Your head snaps up at the sound of that voice. If it isn't your favourite Dean of Medicine. Just as you register that fact, an uncanny realisation strikes you – Chase is _flirting_ with Cuddy. And rather poorly too, although . . . Cuddy really doesn't seem to mind.

"Oh yes. Actually, they have three, the third one is . . ."

"I bet you'd never thought you'd long to be a marsupial, huh, Cuddles?" you quip as you breeze by.

Just before the elevator doors close, you notice Wilson chatting up some blonde in a corner. You vaguely remember seeing her around the morgue a couple of times.

In the course of the day, your initial bad mood deteriorates even further. You wonder if there's something in the air, or why is the entire hospital so lo . . . ah, hormone-struck. It's not even spring. Contemplating the possibility of a biological attack with pheromones, your mind screeches to a halt when Allison walks into the conference room. She hasn't noticed you yet, so you take the opportunity to covertly observe her through the glass doors.

Your hand reflexively reaches into your jeans pocket to finger the cold metal of your wedding band. Somehow, you can't quite bring yourself to leave it at home just yet. It's a limbo, you know. Or is it hell – for the both of you? She thinks you've cast it away, you know you haven't.

Just then a cramp clutches your sorry excuse for a thigh muscle. Your hand abandons the ring in favour of the orange vile. You pour several pills out, resisting the urge to just down the entire vile, when the _swish_ of the doors makes you look up. It's her. Of course it's her.

She walks over to the recliner on which you are perched, and replaces all but one pill back into the orange container. Before you get the chance to growl at her to mind her own damn business, she nudges your leg aside and gently mutters, "Move." For some reason you obey her. Perhaps it's because that's the first word she has spoken to you the entire week that has nothing to do with the case. You've missed her voice. You've missed her voice addressing _you_ away from prying eyes.

She sits down next to you and starts working her magic. You're torn between closing your eyes in relief and keeping them focused on her. In the end, you decide to close them. Partly to enjoy her willing proximity – her warmth, her touch, her gentleness – and pretend that nothing has changed. Partly because the guarded expression on her face tells you that everything has changed. You've never thought you'd miss her carrying her heart on her sleeve.

Your lips part, but before any word could leave your mouth, her presence is gone. It's probably better that way. You have no idea what you were going to say.

Now you're back to observing her through the glass divide until, half an hour later, she gathers her things and leaves.

**. . .**_  
Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled  
Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted;  
The glory of the moon is dead;  
Night's ghosts and dreams have now departed;  
Thine own soul still is true to thee,  
But changed to a foul fiend through misery.**  
. . .**  
_

Thursday night, a waning moon and an irate Cuddy. You've been avoiding clinic duty ever since _that_ day. You've had it with hormonal teenagers and snot-nosed kids and hypochondriacs of all shades and colours. Had it. Done. Finito. Except Cuddy doesn't seem to agree with you, so you turn off the lights and sneak onto your balcony. Carefully sliding the doors closed, you survey the surroundings. Wilson is observing you with a curios expression from his own balcony. Well, you had to run into him eventually. It's only so long you could avoid him after your little temper tantrum.

Suddenly, there's footsteps inside your office. Making a split-second decision, you climb onto Wilson's balcony and lower yourself to a sitting position next to the diving wall. Barely a couple of seconds later, the doors slide open and you hear Cuddy walk outside with a distinct _click_ _click click_.

"Have you seen House?" she inquires impatiently.

With bated breath, you await Wilson's retaliation.

"Not for the past couple of hours."

An annoyed huff before, "If you see him, tell him he better get his ass down to the clinic tomorrow, or I'll personally make sure he'll be filling out his own paperwork from now on."

You wince.

"I'll tell him."

Four more _clicks_ and she's gone, leaving the two of you alone again.

You drag yourself to your feet and join Wilson, leaning on the stone railing. For several minutes, both of you keep quiet, merely observing the distant city lights.

Then, "You're torturing her, you know."

You're about to object that Cuddy is too much of a masochist not to enjoy your little cat-and-mouse game, but Wilson continues before you get the chance.

"You're doing the exact same thing to her you did to Stacy. Pushing her away before pursuing her again. I don't think you need me to tell you anymore how that will end. Again."

Ah, he's talking about Allison. He seems to have noticed your inability to let her out of your reach. Not that you were particularly subtle.

"What do you want to achieve? Hurt her? Ruin her life?"

A pause before a quietly muttered, "This is your fault, not hers."

For a moment, a hot jealousy courses through your veins. You know they're friends. Your best – only – friend is friends with your girl. They must have talked about this, about you. He must have comforted her. Your nails dig into your palm, but just as quickly as the fire flared up, so does it extinguish itself. Wilson's offering you an olive branch, or . . . at least he's not holding your reaction against you. Besides . . .

"I know it's my fault," you say after a while and then add, "And I'm not trying to hurt her."

"Then why are you doing this?" he asks with honest interest.

You don't reply, but it seems there's no need for words.

"You love her," Wilson states.

Your lip twitches, but you remain silent, your head bent.

"And you're not denying it."

Still, you keep quiet.

Wilson sighs, and you see him shake his head out of the corner of your eye.

"You know she loves you, and if you feel the same, then why all the drama? Do you really enjoy being miserable that much?"

Without a glance at your friend, you slide over the divide and make your way towards the door. Your hand rests on the cool glass as you stop on the threshold. You feel a sudden need to be honest. With him and yourself.

"Because she deserves better than this," you confess and leave before you can hear Wilson's whispered reply.

"_Yes, she does."_

_**# # #**  
_

You abandon the empty glass and limp across the room, discarding the family photo along with a palpable lack of nostalgia into one of the cabinet drawers on your way to the bedroom. You mechanically change into your sleeping attire before you crawl under the covers. When you reach over to turn off the bedside lamp, your eyes briefly catch the glimmer of your wedding band resting on the dark-brown wood before darkness engulfs you.

**. . .**_  
This fiend, whose ghastly presence ever  
Beside thee like thy shadow hangs,  
Dream not to chase: the mad endeavour  
Would scourge thee to severer pangs.  
Be as thou art. Thy settled fate,  
Dark as it is, all change would aggravate.**  
. . .**  
_

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**A/N: **_Yes, kangaroos really have multiple vaginas (thank you National Geographic Channel). _

_I've meant for this one to be entirely depressing, but some humour managed to sneak in. _

_Anyway, I have a vague idea about the next chapter, though, I don't know when I'll find the time to write it. _


End file.
